


Afterwards

by Smashing_Successor



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Coming of Age, F/F, Family, Growing Up, Identity, Light Angst, Light Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smashing_Successor/pseuds/Smashing_Successor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severa deals with a new addition to her family and learns a little about herself along the way. It's not always a straight road back home. Set between Awakening and Fates</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You hide behind your Daddy’s cloak and take some small comfort out of the familiar purple shades. The others think it looks sinister but to you, it’s familiar and safe, which is what you need as your Mommy introduces the stranger in front of you.

“Severa, this is…” she stops and her face scrunches up a bit, as if she’s having trouble remembering what comes next. 

The white haired stranger speaks up. “Your aunt,” she says in a voice that is flat, almost belligerently reluctant. “I’m your Aunt Selena.”

Mommy’s face scrunches further for an instant before smoothing out. “Aunt Se-Selena,” she finishes. “Can you say hello, Severa?”

You bury your face deeper into Daddy’s cloak. “H’lo.”

Daddy chuckles and prods you forward a bit with a gentle hand. “Why so shy all of a sudden? I’m sure your aunt doesn’t bite, nya ha!”

Your aunt, the stranger, crosses her arms and frowns. “Don’t be so sure,” she says and you can’t tell if she’s joking or not. It sounds like something your Daddy would say but he usually adds a laugh afterwards. Your aunt just frowns and it makes you feel nervous and unsure of yourself, like you were the one who did something wrong.

Mommy sighs after a beat. “Come now, Se-Selena. Don’t be like that. She’s only a child.”

Aunt Selena’s eyes narrow a bit at Mommy, but she uncrosses her arms. “Sorry,” she says in a tone that sounds the exact opposite of sorry. It seems to work for Mommy though; she nods her head and then looks to you expectantly.

Being polite to this stranger is the last thing you want to do but Mommy and Daddy raised you to be respectful to friends and family, which also now suddenly includes a long-lost aunt.

So you bite your tongue and bow your head and mumble out, “Nice to meet you.”

Your aunt re-crosses her arms. The frown is back again. “Likewise.”

*** 

After a few days of her living with you and your parents, you come to the conclusion that your Aunt Selena is weird. Not weird in a funny ha-ha turn-you-inside-out-kind-of-funny like daddy or funny-nice like your best friend Noire who can make you giggle without even trying to. 

No, Aunt Selena… she’s just… weird. And you’re pretty sure she doesn’t like you either. Every time she catches sight of you, her face scrunches up in way that reminds you of Mommy, but with more edges and harder lines. Mommy always gets a funny look on her face when you mention it to her. Daddy just laughs and says that’s how she always looks. You don’t believe him.

Aunt Selena makes your parent’s act weird too. Sometimes Mommy will say your name and then she’ll stop and look confused for a second, like she’s trying to remember who you are again. Daddy laughs a lot more whenever she’s around but it always sounds like he’s trying too hard to fill up the silence that Aunt Selena brings to whatever room she’s in. 

She also never wants to talk to you and she acts like you’re a piece of furniture when the two of you are in the same room. Which is okay with you. You don’t want to talk to her either, because she’s your aunt that frowns all the time and never smiles and that’s a more than a little weird. But then it turns not okay because Mommy gets a sad look on her face and even Daddy’s smile starts to slip. So you at least try and say hello or good morning to her. Depending on her mood, she’ll either say nothing or simply grunt back at you.

She leaves after a few days of uncomfortable silences and you can’t say you’re sad to see her go. Mommy makes her promise to come visit more often and Aunt Selena mumbles something under her breath about free time and schedules. You silently ask Naga to make her stay away. 

Aunt Selena is weird. And you don’t like her.

*** 

After your aunt leaves, your own life returns to it’s even pace. You help Mommy with the chores around the house and she pats you on the head and remarks what a good little helper you are. Daddy takes you exploring in the woods near your house, just at the base of the mountain. He shows you all sorts of plants and animals and you especially like it when he points out the various birds that live here. You’ve always wanted a familiar and Daddy promises you when you’re old enough that a familiar will find you. Secretly, you hope it’s a crow like his.

For a while, everything is right. And then you turn seven.

Aunt Selena comes over out of the blue a few days after the celebration, right in the middle of dinner. She practically barges in without any warning and badly startles everyone with her frenzied babbling. Mommy and Daddy take her to another room and close the door behind them after telling you to entertain yourself until they’re done.

For a while, you practice drawing inside a little sketchbook that Noire gave you for your birthday. You’re pretty awful though and after a while, you get bored. With nothing else to do, you decide to go pester your parents despite their request for privacy. Just before you can knock on the door, however, you hear a whisper.

 _“O-outside wh-when she… coughing up blood… I… she’s fainted before… never like this…”_ Aunt Selena’s words come out rushed and you can barely make out whatever she’s saying. 

_“Didn’t know… what to do… p-put her to bed… some medicine but… but… so pale when I left... Oh gods.”_

_“Always been sickly… Have the doctors…?”_

_“Keeps getting worse… Even Libra... no clue whatsoever…”_

_“How long… until?”_

_“I don’t know. Gods, I don’t know.”_

The voices go even lower after that and become impossible to discern. You lift your ear from the keyhole. You feel a little ashamed for eavesdropping on their conversation, even if you don’t quite fully understand what their talking about. The raw emotion in your aunt’s voice is clear though. As quietly as you can, you slink back to the table where your sketchbook remains. After a moment’s pondering, you being adding to the picture you’ve drawn.

They come out an hour later. Aunt Selena is deathly pale but she looks a little less shaky when she first barged in. Mommy’s eyes are sad and her posture just radiates a sort of resigned weariness and she looks a bit surprised when she sees that you’re still up.

“Oh, Severa. You’re supposed to be in bed.” She shakes her head and then beckons to you. “Well, no use in worrying about it now. Come say good night to your aunt.”

You shuffle forward, the drawing you were working on rolled up inside your hand. “Bye, Aunt Selena.” You stick out your hand, making sure not to look at her directly. “For you.”

Everyone looks surprised at the gesture, none more so than your aunt. She takes the scroll from your hands and slowly unfurls it.

“Oh…” she says and that’s all she says. You feel your heart sink down to your toes, disheartened by her lackluster reaction. Whenever you show Mommy and Daddy one of your pictures, they’re all delighted chuckles and warm praises.

You’ve never been critiqued with an ‘oh,’ before. It stings.

Mommy peers over Aunt Selena’s shoulder and her eyes soften at what she sees. “Oh, Severa. You drew this?” Her tone is one of pleasant wonder, criticism that you are much more comfortable with. “This is lovely.”

You scratch the back of your neck and mutter, “it’s not that good, mom.” Even so, you did spend quite a bit of time on it. Originally, it was just going to be a family picture and you were going to give it to your parents for them to keep. But then you ended up eavesdropping on a conversation that you weren’t meant to hear, about someone you aren’t supposed to know. And suddenly, you find yourself adding a little crayon aunt to your family portrait. She stands slightly father away from you and your parents, an artistic decision that you slightly regret now in hindsight. Does she notice it?

Your mother not-so-subtly nudges Aunt Selena in the ribs. Aunt Selena starts, as if remembering where she is, and she carelessly stuffs your picture into her back pocket.

“Thanks,” she says, pausing as she tries to think of something to say. “It’s… it’s nice.”

You nod, not believing for one second that she actually means it.

***

Aunt Selena starts coming by on an almost weekly basis now. She never stays long, usually just ten or twenty minutes. Sometimes, Mommy goes with her, just leaving you and Daddy. When she’s gone, Daddy rarely smiles and he waits by the window for her to come back, sometimes watching for hours on end. You know better to distract Daddy when he’s like this and sometimes, you wait with him, silently holding hands.

“Your aunt has a friend,” he explains as the two of you keep your vigil. “And she’s sick. Very sick. That’s why Mommy is going with your aunt, to see if she can help in any way.”

You nod, though you’re not sure how much help Mommy can do. She’s like a real-life hero in your head, but you’re not sure how much she actually knows when it comes to medicine beyond the basic home remedies. Maybe it’s a reassurance thing.

“Why don’t you go with Mommy, too?” you ask.

Daddy chuckles softly. “I’d really like to.” He ruffles your hair and you scowl as you duck away. “But who’d stop you from having your wicked ways and burning down the house while we’re gone, huh?”

You smooth out your hair and say, “I won’t be lonely if you go, Daddy.”

Daddy turns to you, surprised. “Really?”

 _Just a little,_ you think silently. 

“Promise,” you say out loud, trying to believe your own conviction. “Besides, I bet Mommy could use your help.”

Daddy hesitates for a second and then nods. “Well, you are getting to that age where you can start looking after yourself. Maybe it’s time.” He shrugs a bit and smiles at you. “When did you get so mature?”

“I’ve always been mature, Daddy.”

Daddy throws his head back and cackles. “Of course you have! My bad, my bad!”

The next time Aunt Selena comes over, both Mommy and Daddy leave with her. You watch them from the window; the three of them bundled up in their cloaks to protect from the biting chill, as they get progressively smaller and smaller.

When they’re gone from your sight, you lay your head down on the window sill, suddenly overcome by an overpowering feeling of homesickness.

But that doesn’t make sense. You are home. Why should you feel this way?

 _It’s because of Aunt Selena,_ a snide little voice in the back of your head whispers. _She’s taking mommy and daddy away. They’re never coming back because of her._

You violently shake your head, dispelling the words out of your mind. No, that’s stupid, crazy talk. Mommy and Daddy are coming back. They have to.

You fall asleep by the windowsill, waiting for them come back. 

In your dreams, you wait for an eternity.

***

In the dead of winter’s night with the snow falling lightly on the ground, Aunt Selena finally shows up, pounding on the door loud enough to wake the dead. Your sleep addled mind thinks its bandits at first or worse, those Risen things that you hear your mother and father whisper about when they try to be discreet. But no, it’s just Aunt Selena.

When they let her in, you’re frightened by how she looks. Her hair is windswept and she has a desperate, hurt look in her eye that reminds you of an injured fox that had wandered near the back of your house where you were playing. Mommy had tried to help it and it bit her when she came too close and you nearly cried, but Mommy wasn’t scared. She just kept talking softly to it until the fox finally let her go. It died a few hours later and you remember crying as Mommy held you, whispering quietly in your ear that everything’s alright, it’s alright.

Mommy is using that same voice now on your aunt but it doesn’t seem to be working. Aunt Selena keeps shaking her head back and forth, back and forth and her whole body shudders as she sobs her pain out.

“She’s gone,” she moans, over and over again, her voice wretched and raw with anguish. “She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone…”

All the color drains from your parent’s faces. Mommy puts a hand over her mouth.

 _Who?_ you want to ask. _Who’s gone? When are they coming back?_

*** 

The funeral is a few days after. As you watch Aunt Selena cry silently, you wish you could say you’re sorry for her loss. But try as you might, you can’t. You just can’t.

It’s hard to feel sad for someone you’ve never met, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

“Your aunt is going to be staying with us for a while.” Mommy says tiredly after the funeral and the three of you are back home. “She needs… she needs our support right now.”

Aunt Selena spends her first day back in the house staring out the window, watching the snow fall with a dead expression in her eyes. She’s there the day after that, and the one after that, and the one after that. 

You honestly think there’s more life in a corpse than in her right now. It’s…scary. 

She speaks even less now and you give up trying to say anything to her other than “good morning Aunt Selena,” and “good night Aunt Selena.” Mommy and Daddy don’t fare much better. It’s honestly like talking to a wall, a wall that occasionally grunts. 

You kind of wish that she were a wall instead; walls at least don’t those eyes of hers that stare at nothing in particular, for hours on end.

You hate how everyone seems to tread on tiptoes in the house now. You hate how sad Mommy looks when she tries to talk to your aunt and your aunt just turns her. You hate how tired your father looks and how his smiles are all forced now. You hate Aunt Selena’s stupid friend for dying and making your family feel like this.

But most of all, you hate Aunt Selena for all that she’s done, for bringing this sadness with her into your life.

You just want it all gone.

***

Time passes and winter’s bite slowly turns into the soft brush of spring. You begin to wear your hair in pigtails, if only to differentiate from your aunt’s hairstyle, who has let her hair grow long and free. You don’t even like pigtails; you want your hair to look exactly like Mommy’s. But your hair is stubborn and the longer it grows, the more you realize that it’s starting to look less like hers and more like your aunt’s. It also doesn’t help that you two share the same hair color. Which is a bit odd since she and Mommy are sisters and Mommy’s hair is red like warm fire but her hair is as white as fresh snow, like yours and Daddy’s. In any case, pigtails it is.

You show it to Mommy first and she looks oddly disoriented for a second before she remembers to smile and say it looks cute. Your father chuckles, his first genuine chuckle in months and ruffles your hair. A blast from the past, he calls it.

Your aunt stops staring out the window long enough to glare daggers at your father.

*** 

Summer seems to revitalize your aunt to a somewhat disturbing degree. She moves out of the small cottage without warning and starts building a small shack a few steps away. A sudden change seems to overcome her; she moves with frenzied energy, like a woman possessed, and the shack springs up practically overnight. 

Your parents don’t seem to view this as a positive change. If anything, they’re more worried.

“It’s good that she’s getting out more but…” Mommy shrugs, a little helplessly, up to her elbows in soap suds as she scrubs at a dinner plate. “I’ve never seen her so... grimly determined.”

You hand her another dinner plate offer up your opinion. “Maybe Aunt Selena just wants it to be done before it gets cold again.”

But Mommy just shakes her head. “No, I don’t think that’s quite it…” she sighs and puts down the dish. “She doesn’t want any help that we offer. It’s as if she’s trying to distract herself from thinking too much about…” 

Mom pauses and you wait for her to continue. But all she does is sigh. “What do you think she’s thinking about, Severa?”

It’s such an odd question and you mentally stumble a bit, feeling put on the spot. How on Ylisse would you know what goes on in your aunt’s head? 

“Um, sad things… I guess?” You shrug. “I dunno. I’m not her.”

Your mother turns sharply and regards you with a surprised look that makes you want to squirm, and for a second, you wonder if you said something wrong. But then the surprise melts away and she chuckles, a bit wistfully, and shakes her head. “You’re right. I should’ve known better.” 

She tweaks you on the nose and you wrinkle it distastefully as soap bubbles float upwards. “You’re your own, little Severa.”

You don’t understand why she sounds so sad when she says it.

*** 

Your aunt finishes the shack just in time, right as the trees begin to turn yellow and orange and just before she can freeze to death. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

It’s not all bad though. Now that’s she’s done with her new home, she spends more and more time in the woods, hunting for game with an old, rickety looking bow that has seen better days. She glares fiercely when father offers to replace it and hugs it close to her chest.

The main point is, you see her less and less these days and by association, so do your parents. Which is good because things slowly start going back to the way they were. But not quite. Aunt Selena always seems to loom in the background, like some unwanted spectre that refuses to disappear.

You ask the question that’s been burning in your mind the next time you and daddy go out into the forest again. Outings like this have become more and more scarce the older you’ve gotten and you’re a bit resentful that you have to ask here of all places. But here is best, outside in the world, where it’s just the two of you and you have each other’s undivided attention and honest opinion.

“When is Aunt Selena going back home?”

Daddy looks up from the mushroom he is examining. “Hm?”What d’ya mean, kiddo? She’s not in the house anymore.”

“I meant, when is she going back to her home?”

Daddy looks confused for a second before understanding crosses his face. “You mean… when is she leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Daddy looks back at the mushroom. You can tell he is stalling by the way his shoulders hunch over. “Why do you wanna know?” he asks after a brief pause.

“Just wondering,” you say, with what is hopefully a reasonable amount of indifference and casualness.

He hums. You’re not sure if he bought it. “I don’t know,” he says after a pause. “Your aunt needs time to herself to sort out all the stuff in her head. You understand?”

“Oh.” You can’t help but feel disappointed with his answer. You know it basically means ‘indefinitely.’

He looks at you again and this time, there is a hint of something inscrutable on his face. “Do you… not like your aunt?”

You hesitate. Daddy has always understood you in that quirky way of his, so you decide to at least give him the gentler criticism you have of Aunt Selena.

“She’s… weird.”

He hums again and nods a bit. “Maybe she is a little bit,” he concedes, before his expression turns sly. “She is related to you after all.”

You huff indignantly, accustomed to his weird sense of humor. “I’m not weird!”

“Nya ha! Sure you aren’t, kiddo!”

“Daaaad!”

*** 

You make it a point to avoid your aunt’s shack whenever your best friend Noire visits. Whenever she asks about it, you just wave her off and make a comment about your “crazy aunt.” She learns to stop asking after you embellish your crazy aunt into your “crazy aunt, who doesn’t wash her hair, has toenails longer than a crows and I’m pretty sure she keeps a rabid cat as a pet.”

(It’s a terrible lie. Your aunt is stunningly beautiful in a haunted sort of way and it annoys you because all your other friends point it out to you, as if you’re blind. Owain even has the gall to say you look more like her than your Mom and you nearly deck him in response.)

(Yes, all your other friends have met your crazy aunt, or at least, seen her from a distance since she never bothers to introduce herself to company. Only Noire has been left in the dark and you want it to remain that way. You don’t care what the other’s think but Noire is… 

Noire is Noire and she’s your best friend. And you don’t want her to think that you’re weird because your aunt is weird.)

Still, it doesn’t stop her from turning to stare forlornly at the shack each time she passes it.

“I still want to meet the rest of your family one day.”

“You will,” you say, lying through your teeth as you drag her away.

*** 

The sketchbook that Noire gave you for your seventh birthday has long since been filled up with various doodles, but that doesn’t stop you from pestering Mom into buying you a new one and sketching everything you see. Anything that catches your eye, you draw to show to Noire whenever she comes over. The pages start to fill up with scenes from your everyday life. You even drew your aunt once but you ended up tearing it out after a few aborted tries.

(Something about her eyes makes you feel too uncomfortable to put them onto paper)

Noire is ten times the artist you’ll ever be, thanks to her dad, but you like to think that you’ve gotten a bit better each time you try. Noire seems to agree, because she always has something sweet to gush over in each picture you show her.

By total accident, Noire finds the portrait you did of her from memory in the back of your sketch book and you nearly die from embarrassment because one, she wasn’t supposed to see that, ever, you just drew it on a random whim and two… well, gawds, it’s just plain embarrassing, alright?!

But Noire doesn’t seem to think so, if her silence is any indication. For a second, you fear you’ve offended her somehow or crossed some line you’re not meant to cross. But then she ducks her head and you can tell from the way she does it that she’s pleased and a bit touched. Her praise, delivered in a softer voice than the usual effusiveness, makes it all the more sincere. 

And when she smiles, that same shy smile that you tried to capture in your own drawing of her, you make a silent vow to keep drawing, only so that you can see that same smile again and capture it perfectly.

*** 

Life goes on. Time passes. You get older. Suddenly you’re ten, then eleven, twelve. You’re Daddy’s only a little taller than you now and Mom comments that with the way you’re growing, you’ll be taller than her too. 

It’s around two weeks before you turn thirteen that, out of sheer boredom, you pick up one of your mother’s old wooden training swords she has lying around in storage and begin swinging it around.

After an hour or two, you find out you actually enjoy swinging it around, so much so that when your parent’s come back home, you ask them to teach you how to use it properly.

The two exchange inscrutable glances before agreeing.

Unfortunately for you, your progress is rather slow. Mom tries her best and she shows you a few basic moves but she admits that her expertise lies with lances and she doesn’t want to mislead you with misinformation. 

Daddy knows not to not hold the pointy end of the blade and that’s pretty much the extent of his knowledge regarding swordplay.

Which is why you find yourself walking towards your aunt’s shack, after Mom suggests that you ask her instead. According to her, your Aunt Selena is “exceedingly talented with a blade.”

Honestly, you’d rather chew on nails then have to interact with Aunt Selena. She’s become even more withdrawn since the few years she’s lived next door and you can’t say with a hundred percent certainty if she’s turned into some sort of ghost by now. But, if you’re mother’s words are anything to go by, then Aunt Selena is probably your best bet to learning the sword. So you swallow your discomfort and a bit of your pride to go ask her to teach you.

You think she’s just as surprised and uncertain as you are when she agrees.

*** 

Aunt Selena’s first lesson is to teach you endurance, which in her own words, boils down to “try and hit me.” 

Your first attempt involves a headlong charge followed by a lusty battle cry that you mimic from one of Daddy’s tall tales about brave heroes he used to tell you when you were younger. 

Aunt Selena doesn’t even blink. You do and when you open your eyes again, you find yourself sprawled out on the ground a few feet away, wondering just how in the world you ended up there. 

Aunt Selena simply sheathes her wooden practice sword and fixes you with a bored expression. “Again.”

You pick yourself up and blink the stars out of your vision. You glare back at her and you swear that the ghost of a smirk appears on her face before it settles back to expressionless.

Your second attempt doesn’t go much better and neither do the third, fourth, fifth… You begin to lose count how many times you’ve been sent sprawling and frustration begins to seep in. You hate to admit it, but Aunt Selena is fast and strong and frightfully good. You might as well be trying to hit air with all you’ve accomplished so far. Air that hits back with the force of a brick wall. 

But you hate being told you can’t do something so you get back on your feet each time, a little more wobbly than the last, and try again and again and again…

At least you’ve learned to stop letting out battle cries now. It makes you feel stupid each time you do it now and you’re pretty sure it gives you away. 

After an excruciating amount of time passes, your aunt finally says, “Stop.” 

You come skidding to a halt mid charge, breathing wildly with your pulse all over the place. Your aunt, on the other hand, looks as fresh as when you began. 

“We’re done for today.”

You blink. Slowly, you lower your sword. “That’s it?” 

“For today.”

“B-but, I didn’t learn anything!” you say, unable to stop the peevish note enters your tone. But you’re too sore and annoyed to correct yourself because dammit, you came here to learn how to use a sword, not to be your aunt’s glorified punching bag.

She shrugs noncommittally, unmoved by your indignation. “Then feel free to not show up tomorrow if that’s how you feel,” she says, turning around to head back inside her shack, leaving you to stare dumbly at the empty space.

Your frustration peaks and you kick angrily at the stack of logs she has set up nearby. You’re sorely tempted to follow her advice. All you have to show for today’s lesson are black and blue bruises and a sore rump. And now a sore foot as well after that kick. Dammit.

But… 

You scowl and pick up your discarded training sword. You also don’t want to look like some spoiled brat in front of your aunt and by the gods, your just itching to prove her wrong and to land one good hit on her.

So, when the next day comes, you hobble on back to her shack, where she is waiting with her arms crossed. Clearly, she’s just as thrilled as you are that you’ve turned up for another beating. But as you come closer, you see a brief flash of what looks to be grudging respect in her eyes before it’s gone.

“Should’ve known you’d be back,” she grumbles, before sighing and scratching the back of her head, as if wondering what to do now.

And then you realize that it had been a test. A test to see if you’d actually pick yourself up again even after all the times you went down. A test your aunt didn’t think you’d actually pass.

The word hypocrite rings briefly in your head. 

You stand a bit taller, ignoring the protests from your back. You’ve beaten Aunt Selena at her own game; you’ve earned the right to be a bit smug.

Aunt Selena sighs again. “Always been too stubborn for your own good.”

“It runs in the family,” you say before you can stop yourself.

The ghostly smirk appears and disappears and she snorts softly. “That it does.” She flexes her fingers and then draws her wooden sword.

“Alright, Lesson One: How to Actually Hold Your Sword.”

*** 

The little bit of grudging respect is all you’re going to get and the next few months you’re reminded just why you disliked your aunt so much in the first place.

It’s not because she doesn’t go easy on you. You’re actually okay with that. You love your parents, but gawds, do they handle you with kid gloves whenever you practice with them. Which is frustrating when all you want to do is get better. 

With Aunt Selena, there’s no coddling, no pampering, just straight up one-sided beat downs. Which make you sore to high heaven but it also makes you feel like you’re learning. Also, it’s fun to see how frustrated your aunt looks each time you pick yourself up off the ground, as if she’s expecting you to just stay there. By now, you’ve learned to thrive on beating her expectations.

She’s also not a bad teacher. Sure, a lot of her examples more or less involve her saying, “copy what I do and don’t get hit,” and you learn the hard way that you will get hit the first couple (hundred) times. But you’re a quick study and after a while you see there’s a method to your aunt’s madness and soon you find yourself learning just how to wield the sword. You have a long way to go before you reach your aunt’s level (you have to grudgingly admit it’s because she’s really good) but you’re encouraged by the small signs of progress in your own form. So no, it’s not because of her teaching method in which you dislike her by.

It’s how whenever the two of you are training, she never seems to actually shut up. 

It’s a little baffling how your normally reticent aunt becomes so talkative during these sparring sessions. And it’s never nice things. Actually, a lot of the times it’s “Ooh, I was almost scared” when your swipe misses or “Are you daft?” when you make a mistake or a favorite of hers to say whenever “Gawds, you’re boring me.” 

You admit, you may have been a little spoiled by Mom and Dad who are nothing but encouraging in there patient sort of way when they instruct you, which is to exact opposite of how Aunt Selena teaches you. You know she’s just trying to rile you up, to make you angry enough to make a mistake. It’s annoying, it’s petty and it’s slightly discouraging but you’ll never admit that to her and you vow to hold your head up high and never give in to her taunts. 

Though it’d be easier if she’d stop using the one phrase you absolutely hate.

“I’d give up and surrender if I were you!”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be caught dead with such sloppy footwork!”

“Pff, that move again? I wouldn’t even with it bother if I were you!”

“If I were you!”

“If I were you!”

“If I were you!”

But you’re not, you think resentfully. You’re not. You’re not. You’re not.

You don’t like how many times you have to repeat it in your head before you finally feel comfortable. 

*** 

Aunt Selena has a small charm on a necklace that she keeps tucked underneath her shirt. Back when she was still living with you and your parents, she used to rub the thing incessantly as she stared out the window. It drove you a little crazy because every time she saw you looking at it, she’d hide it back in her shirt before you could get a good look at it.

Even now, you can tell she still has it; whenever you two take a break from your training (or glorified beatings) she’ll sometimes get a faraway look in her eyes and rub the space above her heart, over and over again. You know better than to speak when she gets like this so you remain quiet until she brings herself out of whatever funk she’s in. 

Today, you managed to get your first ever good look of it by total accident. Once a month, Mom usually tries to get Aunt Selena to come over for dinner, a family event that your aunt loathes with a passion if her sullen silence during them is any indication. You’re not overly fond of them either but if it’s one thing your Mom is, it’s persistent.

Your aunt must’ve known beforehand that’d your mother would send you to invite her to dinner because nobody answers when you knock the door to her little shack. 

You huff and stomp your feet, trying to keep warm as the snow falls around you. You knock again, harder this time and when nothing happens, you try the knob. To your surprise, it’s unlocked and you push it open.

“Aunt Selena?” You stick your head in and take a cursory glance around. There’s a plain table in the middle, a bed in the corner and a cupboard. The rickety old bow you see your aunt use hangs on the wall, the quiver leaning underneath it. The one solitary window shines a weak beam of light onto the whole scene.

Hesitantly, you stick the rest of your body through the door, careful not to track too much snow into her space. “Aunt Selena?” you ask again, though you don’t know why you bother. It’s not like there’s anywhere she could hide in here. There are no signs of dust or disrepair, yet at the same time, it hardly looks like someone is actually living in it. It’s actually kind of depressing.

Something on the table catches your eye. Curious, you move closer to examine it.

Up close, the charm isn’t anything spectacular. The purple and green coloring has a dull, worn out look and the corners have been rubbed down to small, grey nubs. You’re vaguely disappointed. You were hoping for something a little more impressive or grandiose. It looks pretty unremarkable not that you see it firsthand. 

And yet, something about it puts you off and you decide not to touch it. Actually, now that you look at it again, it has a sort of sinister air about it, as if it was used multiple times to invoke something dark and angry.

But what really catches your attention is the small, white feather attached to it.

Your breath catches in your throat once you realize what it is. It’s a _fay’s_ feather. An _actual_ fay feather. It’s as purely white as the snow outside, save for the hint of green near the edge. There are no birds in the woods that have coloring like this, save for the one that you managed to catch a glimpse of during one trip. Daddy had told you to be very quiet and then pointed at the top of some trees. You barely caught a glimpse of it before it flew away, gone in a flash.

Daddy had called it Naga’s fay, more phantom than actual bird. It’s an apt name. Even now, you’re not sure if what you saw was actually the bird or the trick of the light.

It boggles your mind that Aunt Selena managed to see a fay, let alone get one of its feathers. Out of a sense of curiosity and wonderment, you carefully detach the feather from the charm to examine it closer. Up close, it’s even prettier than you first thought, but you also note that this particular feather has seen better days. It’s definitely an old one; tufts are missing from it and the stalk feels so very brittle, so fragile in your hands, as if a whisper could snap it in half.

“What are you doing here?”

The door slams behind you and you jump in surprise, reflexively clenching your hand. 

You hear a brittle snapping sound in your fist. 

Your heart stops. _Oh no. No, no, no, no._

“Well?” You can hear Aunt Selena coming up behind you and your heart drops to your stomach. Slowly, you turn around. 

Aunt Selena’s eyes slide down from your face to your hands and she stops brushing the snow off her cloak. When she sees what’s there, you hear her breath catch in her throat. All color drains from her face. 

You begin to babble. “I-I didn’t mean to!” you say, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “T-the door was open a-and I thought you w-were…!”

She ignores you. Slowly, she reaches out to take the pieces, her hands shaking as she inches closer. Your own babbling peters out the close she gets. When her hand brushes yours, you try not to shiver. She’s colder than ice. 

Aunt Selena lets out a shuddering sigh that resonates from somewhere deep inside her. “What…What have you…?” 

“I…” What can you say? What is there to say? Nothing, NOTHING will make this better. You know. Somewhere deep inside, you just know, that you’ve hurt your Aunt beyond any physical or mental pain imaginable. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

Aunt Selena lets out another deep sigh, so deep that it sounds more like a pained moan. The pieces are taken from your hands. You let your own arms fall to the side, limp and useless.

“Aunt Selena,” you try again, voice small. “I didn’t mean to- I’m…”

“Get out.” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper. She refuses to meet your eyes.

“I’m- I’m sorr-”

**_“OUT!”_** She screams and you jump, heart leaping to your throat. **_“OUT, DAMN IT!”_**

She flings the pieces to the ground and grabs her head with both hands as if physically restraining herself from wringing you. You don’t need to be told twice and scramble as quickly as you can to the door. 

The last thing you see before the door shuts is your aunt falling to her knees. She hunches over the pieces and tries to cradle them in her hand. The sob she emits is wretched and so pained, as if she had just watched her best friend die right before her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

You rush home and lock yourself in your room, ignoring the surprised and worried calls from Mom and Daddy. You hug your pillow to your chest and try to block them all out. You hate them for introducing Aunt Selena into your life. You hate Aunt Selena for messing up your life. You hate them all.

But most of all, you hate yourself for crying at what you did. It was a complete accident but tears end up leaking from your traitorous eyes as you remember how broken Aunt Selena looked when you left her. You sniff and angrily rub them away. You didn’t do anything wrong!

And yet… you can’t help but feel like you were some sort of unknowing accomplice to a murder. The feather obviously meant a lot to her and you can relate somewhat. There was one time Daddy accidentally threw out one of your sketchbooks, thinking it was trash. You still haven’t forgotten how hurt you felt even as he apologized again and again and bought you enough sketchbooks to fill a room with. You forgave him of course, he didn’t know, but it still doesn’t change the feelings of the moment.

Then again, you think as you flop back onto your bed and stare at the ceiling through increasingly blurrier eyes, it’s not the same. You got new books and filled them with new drawings and memories. Aunt Selena isn’t getting those memories back. She’s not getting another feather.

…Wait.

You bolt upwards. Of course!

*** 

You decide to leave that same exact night, when your parent’s have finally gone to bed. You’re eager to be done with your task as quickly as possible but, deciding to err on the side of caution, you at least leave a note telling your parents you’ve gone into the woods, just so that they don’t freak out in the morning and think you’ve run away from home. But really, it’s just a precautionary measure. You know the forest and the surrounding area like the back of your hand. It really shouldn’t be that hard then, to find a fay and take one of its feather’s, right?

Still, it pays to be at least a little prepared. You pack a day and a half’s worth of rations and an extra winter cloak and set off on your way.

You’ll be back in no time.

*** 

A couple hours later finds you trudging through the woods, cursing your earlier optimism. No, you won’t be back in no time because you are an idiot and you are overconfident and tired and hungry and your feet hurt and _gawds_! Where the hell is that stupid bird?!

You regret only bringing a half-days’ worth of rations with you because you’ve pretty much gobbled them all up at this point. All that’s left are a few crumbs at the bottom of your pack, which will have to be your supper judging by how far the sun has set. Damn it.

You had to venture even deeper into the forest than you ever done before and the fact puts you slightly on edge. Thank Naga you’ve had the common sense to mark your trail beforehand, though the markers won’t do you much good if you can’t even see them. Darkness comes quickly in the winter and the last thing you want to do is spend a night out here without any decent shelter or bedding. Because of that, you decided to stick close to the river during your trek. If you can’t see the markers at night, you can at least follow the sounds of the river.

You sigh and dip your hand into your pouch and fish out the last few crumbs. You pop them into your mouth and chew morosely, trying and failing miserably to not think about home. Mom would be putting the finishing touches up on dinner by now. You’d be setting up the table and Daddy would following behind you and doing his best to sabotage your efforts, hiding the spoon in his robes or cursing the plates into doing somersaults and you’d yell and he’d laugh and your mother would come into to see what the commotion was all about and she’d end up laughing as well. And Aunt Selena, she would…

She’d be alone in her shack, staring down at the charm on the table, with nothing but her own thoughts for company.

You scowl and press on further ahead. You’ve already come so far; it would be a travesty to give up now.

You’re empty canteen bumps against your side, reminding you of your thirst. They’re a decent energy booster but those rations are about as tasty as mud and they make your mouth drier than the Plegian desert. 

Thankfully, there’s no shortage of water here so you make your way over to the river and bend over to fill your canteen, mindful to watch your step. While it isn’t particularly deep, the river’s current is unusually strong this year and if you slipped and fell here, well… you’d either die from the freezing shock or get swept away by the current. You shudder; hardly a nice way to go.

You’re so caught up in thoughts of your untimely demises that you nearly miss the fay in the tree when you straighten back up.

You freeze, canteen halfway up to your mouth. 

The fay looks at you with bright eyes and tilts its head, like it’s observing you. You’ve never seen one up close before, but something about the bird above you tells you that this is definitely one. You don’t know of any other bird with such an intelligent looking mien. Plus, the white tail feathers with dashes of green at the end are a pretty good give away.

You slowly lower the canteen. The fay, as if triggered by your movements, looks at you for a second longer and then it opens its wings. You suddenly realize what it’s about to do and you take off at a dead sprint.

“Oh, don’t you dare!”

The fay is unmoved by your demand; it flaps its wings once and then, to your utter dismay, it takes off in a flurry of feathers.

“No!” You grab a rock and toss it as hard as you can. It barely reaches the fay’s perch and you nearly kick the tree in frustration. “Come back you stupid bird! Arghh!”

But wait. You stop yourself from kicking the tree and look up. It’s a healthy looking evergreen with plenty of nettles in it. Maybe one of the fay’s feathers got stuck in the foliage. It’s a stretch but right now, there aren’t any other options save for hunting down that fay. 

You dump your backpack at the base of the tree and shrug off your cloak. It’d only hamper your progress upwards. You put a cautious foot on the lowest branch, testing its weight. It seems sturdy enough and you grab onto the next branch. Up and over.

You haven’t climbed trees since you were seven. You used to be pretty good, though Cynthia and Owain were naturals. Noire liked to try as well but she was absolutely terrible at it and you spent a lot of your time hovering around the base of the tree to catch her if she ever slipped. She never stopped trying though and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that she sucked.

That was a couple years ago and you’re pretty out of practice. By the time your halfway up, you’re breaths are coming out in gasps and sweat is getting into your eyes. Yuck. How did that saying go again? It’s like riding a pegasus; once you learn it, you never forget. 

“Liars,” you grumble, heaving yourself up to the next branch. You may not have forgotten how to climb a tree but somebody obviously neglected to tell you how hard it’d be the second time around. It’s just your luck that the fay chose one the highest branches to perch on too.

You hazard a look downwards but quickly look back up once you realize how big a mistake that was. The ground is farther down than you feel comfortable with. 

But you’re in luck. As you heave yourself up to the last branch, you see it. There, nestled deep at the far end of the branch you’re on, is one single, white feather. Just one.

You put your foot out and then quickly retract it when the branch you’re on makes a threatening creaking noise. Looks like you’ll be going the slow and steady route. Carefully, you inch yourself a bit further on the branch, stopping whenever you hear straining sounds. Inch by inch, you move yourself closer and closer

“C’mon,” you mutter to yourself. “You can do this. You can do it.”

Nearly there… You’re close enough that you can practically see the stalk of the feather. Just a few more inches and… 

You stretch your fingers out as far as you can and they brush ever so slightly against the feather. 

Yes!

_Creeeeak- Snap!_

Aww, gawds. Really?!

You don’t even have time to blink before you find yourself falling. 

Luckily for you, you manage to land in the river, which is probably better than landing on the ground and being paralyzed from the waist down. Unluckily for you, the water is freezing and the force of your impact pushes out all the air in your lungs. Involuntarily, you swallow water and oh, that’s a mistake. It feels like you’ve swallowed knives. Ice cold, razor sharp knives.

You splutter your way to the surface, coughing and trying to catch your breath. For a brief glorious second, air reenters your lungs. But the current is too strong and your body is in shock so down you go again, like a ragdoll. You swallow water again and the next time your head breaks the surface, you barely get a breath before you go down.

Panic, paralyzing, debilitating panic floods your veins and you kick out furiously with your legs. The river refuses to let you go and with each kick, it sends you spinning in another direction. You’re not even sure which way is up. 

Another kick. Your head barely breaks the surface and the breath you take contains more water than air. And then down again.

You try desperately to will your legs to work but they seem frozen and unresponsive. Black spots begin to dance across your vision.

Your head doesn’t even break the surface with the next push.

Your panic begins to take a numbing sort of quality. Thoughts dance sluggishly and bubble in the dark haze of your consciousness and it’s hard to focus on anything. All of a sudden, you’re overcome with an overpowering feeling of regret. 

You’re sorry for lying to your parents in your note, saying that you would be home soon. You’re sorry for making them worry so much last night. You’re sorry for not being nicer to your aunt. You’re sorry for giving Daddy so much flak for his puns even though you secretly enjoyed them. You’re sorry for never telling Mommy how much you liked the little encouraging messages she’d sneak into your lunch box. You’re sorry that you didn’t get to see the world beyond your little cottage and village. You’re sorry that you never got to sketch the perfect portrait of your best friend’s smile. You’re sorry for breaking your aunt’s charm and her heart. You’re sorry for being the world’s worst niece.

The darkness is warm now, like a soft down blanket. You’re feeling awfully tired… 

Your eyes begin to close…

Something snags onto your shirt and suddenly, you’re being lifted upwards. Your head breaks through the surface and sweet, beautiful air rushes into your lungs. You gulp it all in, coughing and spluttering.

“Are you an idiot?!”

Oh. You know that voice.

“H-hi, Aunt Selena,” you say weakly, trying not to splutter.

“Oh, don’t you dare ‘hi’ me!” she says, more like screeches, as she hauls you bodily out of the river. Distantly, you note that her own clothes are soaked, but not as badly as yours. “Grima bleeding hell!” she swears when she nearly slips on a rock. “You complete, utter idiot!”

She drags you out onto the bank and props you up against a firm looking tree, her breaths coming out in hot, angry puffs. “Lift up your arms,” she commands and the tone of her voice makes you do it without question. She takes off your jerkin, shirt and pants and flings them over a branch before draping her own cloak around your shoulders. If you were more aware, you’d feel slightly self-conscious at your state of undress but it’s kind of hard to care about modesty when you’re teeth are clacking hard enough in your mouth to shatter.

“Hey.” Aunt Selena snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Look at me. Look.” You bring your head up. Her face is pinched tight with worry and you feel vaguely surprised that it’s so visible on her face. 

“You need to control your breathing or else you could go into shock. Look at me.” She mimes breathing in slowly and you try to mimic her as best you can, though yours is definitely more stilted. “Right. Keep your breathing slow and even. Don’t even think about changing it, got it?”

You nod. Satisfied, she gets up and begins tearing branches off the tree, making sure to pick ones that are relatively dry. It’s a task she performs with an unprecedented amount of viciousness. “So completely, utterly stupid!” She rips another branch. “So, so, so stupid! I was never this idiotic!”

You’d take offense to that if you weren’t freezing to death right now. 

She gathers the sticks up in her arms and dumps them in front of you, clearing the snow away with her foot. She reaches into her back pocket ad produces a flint and tinder and begins striking them. The first few strikes produce a few stray sparks but nothing substantial and she swears in aggravation. 

“C’mon, you stupid thing,” she mutters and strikes again. A spark alights and catches and soon, a cheery fire crackling right before your feet. 

You heave a pleased sigh. “T-that’s n-nice.”

Your aunt snorts derisively. “Not out of the woods yet,” she says as she takes your wet clothes and arranges them on some sticks, placing them in front of the fire. She does the same with her own soaked boots but keeps her pants on.

“W-what about y-your p-pants?”

She plops down on the opposite end of the fire. “They’re fine. Just a little bit wet. You on the other hand… gawds.”

Aunt Selena shakes her head and glares at you. “What were you thinking?! Running off into the woods like that. In the middle of winter no less!”

You duck your head. “S-s-sorry…”

The apology just seems to set her off. “Sorry? You’re sorry?! Is that all you have to say for yourself? She gets up and begins to pace back and forth, hair swishing around her like an angry wave. She points in a direction. “Do you have any idea how worried you made everyone? Your parents nearly had a heart attack when they learned where you ran off too! They’re outt here in the woods right now, scouring it from head to tail.” She shakes her head again, her lips curled back with disgust. “I know I overreacted and that you’re just a kid and you don’t know any better. But still, was that any reason to just up and leave like that?!”

“I j-jus-just w-wanted…”

“Wanted to what?” she cuts in, whirling around to glare at you furiously. “Wanted to break your parent’s hearts? Wanted to leave behind everyone that ever cared about you and let them pick up the pieces?!”

“N-no…”

You’ve never seen your aunt this fierce before, but instead of being cowed, you feel your own anger coiling in the pit of your stomach. The numbness in your body is still there, but there’s your own rage mixed in with it. If only she’d let you get in a word edgewise!

Your aunt is still ranting. “And all you left them was a note. A note! Do you know how stupid, inconsiderate, selfish…!” She stops and scoffs scathingly. “Of course you didn’t. You never do. Why, if I were you I’d never--!”

**_“You’re not me!”_ **

Silence descends instantly. It takes you a second to realize you actually said that out loud. Screamed it out loud.

Aunt Selena whirls around in a flurry. “What did you…!” she begins, looking murderous and you feel dread begin to build in your stomach.

But then, surprisingly, she stops. “What did you…” Her brow furrows, looking like she only just heard your words and understood them. Slowly, the furious look on her face morphs into one of confusion.

“What did you…say?” 

You take a shuddering breath, hoping that your voice or your courage won’t give out on you now. “Y-you’re not me, Aunt Selena, n-no matter… no matter h-how many times you s-say it or t-think it.”

Distantly, you’re at least a little aware that these words are hardly the correct thing to say to Aunt Selena, who did just happen to save your life just now. But at the same time, it needs to be said or else the gap between the two of you will never close. You take another shaky breath.

“S-so please… s-stop c-comparing me to what you c-could have done.”

Silence. You watch as Aunt Selena’s face turns whiter than the surrounding snow. “I…” She falls back onto her haunches. “You’re not… that’s right…” She has a lost, dumbfounded look on her face. “You’re not me. You’re not. You’re you. You’re Severa.” She puts a hand over her brow.

“Oh gods.”

Anything else you wanted to say dies on your lips when you see her reaction. Her tone is so… defeated and desperate, as if she realized something too late.

You can’t see her expression but you can see her shoulders shake from where you’re sitting. When she finally looks up, her face is contorted, a mix of pain and sorrow. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and there are tears in her voice and suddenly, you find yourself seeing your aunt for the first time.

“I- I am t-too, Aunt Selena. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks on the last word and you can feel tears starting to sting the back of your eyes. 

You crack open your hand to show her the fay feather, still clenched tight in your frozen fist. 

“I-I j-just wanted to make things r-right.”

Aunt Selena takes one look at the feather in your hand and bursts into tears.

*** 

It takes longer than either of you thought for your clothes to dry so you and Aunt Selena end up taking shelter near a cropping of large rocks for the night. You can tell she isn’t pleased with the choice of shelter and neither are you for that matter. But to go on any further in the dark is suicide and you’re dying, quite literally, for a warm fire just to get the feeling back into your body.

Aunt Selena melts some snow and she sprinkles in some herbs and forces you to drink it. The taste is ghastly but somehow the drink reduces the violent shivering that’s wracking your body to something manageable and allow you to relax marginally. Your still freezing though and you huddle as close as you possibly can to the fire, your own cloak and Aunt Selena’s wrapped as tightly around you as possible.

You must’ve fallen asleep because the next time you open your eyes, you see that the sky is totally black. Your aunt sits beside you, tending the fire. The light from the fire casts long shadows on her face, her expression overwhelmingly weary. She looks ten times her age and a bit of shame wells up in you when you realize you’re probably the reason she looks so haggard.

You’re about to close your eyes again when suddenly, you hear your aunt begin to sing under her breath. It’s slow at first, but then the tune picks up and you find yourself entranced. The words sound foreign but there’s a pleasing rhythm and cadence to it.

You try to turn around as quietly as possible, trying to get comfortable. 

The singing immediately stops. A second later, your aunt is peering over you.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head and try to prop yourself up on one arm. “W-what’s that song you w-were s-singing?”

“That? It’s an old Plegian lullaby.”

The surprise must’ve been visible on your face because she smirks slightly at you. “Weird, huh? When you get to my age, you pick up an interesting thing or two.”

“I-it’s not weird,” you protest and it really isn’t. The words sound deep and guttural to your ears, but there’s a rhythmic cadence to it underneath that’s… reassuring. “W-where did y-you learn it?”

Your aunt is caught off guard by your sudden interest. “I…” she pauses for a second, trying to find the words. “My… friend taught me a while back during the war. Her mother sang it to her when she was young and she said the words always made her feel safe during hard times.” She pauses and a ghost of a smile flits across her face. “You won’t believe how many times I had to sing it to her when she got anxious. And she got anxious a lot.”

Despite her sardonic words, her tone is overwhelmingly fond and it leaves you conflicted. In your mind, you’ve built your aunt up to be a sharp edge, biting and bitter, content to glare sullenly as life passed her by. But the look on her face contradicts that; it’s so unexpectedly tender and gentle that you’re having trouble understanding the two clashing images.

Or maybe… you just haven’t been trying hard enough.

“I-is she the same friend w-who gave you y-your c-charm?”

Aunt Selena quickly turns to you, her expression astonished. “How did you know that?”

Your aunt hasn’t stopped rubbing the spot over her heart ever since the conversation began. She probably doesn’t even realize it and you feel reluctant to point it out to her.

So instead you say, “I-it’s a p-pretty s-song.” 

Your aunt stares at you for a second longer before snorting. She turns back to the fire and throws in another stick. “That’s because you don’t know what the words mean. The first part translates roughly to ‘bless the child to become hale and hearty…’”

“T-that d-doesn’t sound t-too b-bad…”

“‘…So that they may grow strong enough to lay waste to all that gets in their way or die trying.’”

…Maybe you spoke too soon. 

“Y-your friend liked that?” 

There is the barest hint of a smile on Aunt Selena’s lips as she tends to the fire. “She did. Couldn’t understand most of it because her Plegian was terrible, but she said the tune helped soothe her inner demons.”

“Oh.” You struggle to phrase your next thoughts in the kindest way possible, but you’re too tired to actually try. “Y-your f-friend was w-weird.”

Aunt Selena throws back her head and laughs, the first laugh you’ve ever heard her utter and it surprises you how... normal and pleasant it sounds. “That she was,” she says, the same overwhelming fondness back in her voice. She tosses another stick into the fire. “That she was.” 

A silence descend upon the two of you but for once, it’s not awkward or uncomfortable and you enjoy it while it lasts. After a while, your aunt looks back to you and something seems to cross her mind.

“Do you…” she stops and then shakes her head. “No, forget about it.” 

“W-what?”

“Nothing. Just a silly idea I had. And you need your rest.”

“I-I’m okay,” you lie because you’re still freezing to death but at the same time, you have an unexplainable urge to keep talking. “W-what were y-you thinking?”

She shrugs. “I just thought… if you were interested, I could teach you the song,” she says. “That is if you want.”

You blink. Apparently, this is just a night of surprises and for a second you’re at a loss for words. Did Aunt Selena just offer to teach you and… willingly?

Maybe it’s the herbs or the drink but you feel the core of your stomach warm up.

Aunt Selena misinterprets your silence for reluctance. “Or you could ask D- Henry instead,” she quickly adds. “He probably knows the words better than I do, being from Plegia and all and he definitely won’t have my horrible accent and…”

“Yes, please.”

Aunt Selena stops mid-sentence, thrown her off guard by your sudden acceptance. But then she smiles at you and you know you made the right choice. It’s a small smile, but it’s also the most genuine and open one you ever seen on her face. 

“Brat,” she says and there’s even a little bit of affection in the way she says it. She knocks you lightly on the head. “Alright, listen up. The first line is _cratz urglutavak vas scheel…_ ”

***

The next time you wake up, it’s still dark and freezing, but you’re warmer than before. Aunt Selena holds you in her arms, your head nestled right underneath her chest. Her cloak is wrapped around the two of you as a blanket and her white hair cascades your frame, blending in with the snowy world. She snores slightly and the sound makes you giggle a bit. She sounds a lot like Daddy.

You close your eyes and smile. It feels just like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutouts to Persona


	4. Gaiden: Yuletide and Family

There’s a knock at the door and your mother lifts her head from the roast she is preparing, her face shiny from the heat. “Oh, that must be the guests! Severa, can you let them in?”

“Sure.” You put down your knife and wipe your hands on your apron before making your way to the front door. You pass by Daddy in the dining room, where he’s setting up all the silverware with unbounded glee at being unsupervised. Only after you make him promise not to curse any of the dinner plates do you continue on. 

You could hassle him a bit more but you’re in waaay too good of a mood right now. Because it’s Yuletide! The most wonderful time of the year! It’s the time where you get presents, drink copious amounts of delicious dragon-nog and gather your whole family and friends together under one roof. 

Though honestly, you’re still a bit surprised that your parents even let you participate in this year’s Yuletide as opposed to grounding you for a century. Mom was hysterical when she found the two of you in the forest and she nearly killed her Pegasus trying to ferry all of you home at a breakneck speed. Daddy was just as distraught; for the entire week you were bedridden with fever, he didn’t make one silly pun or even crack a smile. It was a rough week for everyone, that week.

Yet, here you are now, relatively healthy and hearty, with just a lingering cough from your fever. And mostly ungrounded after your excursion into the woods, which is both pleasantly surprising and worrisome. Despite their appearances, your parents are hardly floozies and you have a gut feeling that once Yuletide is over and everyone settles down, your chores are going to increase. Exponentially.

But you can care about that later because right now, it’s Yuletide! 

You open the door and put on your best Yuletide face. “Merry Yuletide!” you shout. 

Then you see who it is and your shout peters out. “Oh.”

Aunt Selena blinks back at you, looking a little taken aback at your enthusiasm. “Uh, thanks.” Her eyes stray to the bright red stocking cap you’re wearing and you flush, feeling terribly silly and awkward at the moment. Thankfully, she looks just as uncomfortable and doesn’t comment on it, instead shifting the wrapped parcel she has underneath her arm. “Merry Yuletide to you too.”

You weren’t expecting her of all people to show up for Yuletide and wow, does that make you sound ungrateful after she saved your life and all. Guilt wells up in your stomach and you nervously shift your weight. You really should have taken the time to visit or at least thank her for what she did. But you honestly forgot with all the excitement and hubbub leading up to Yuletide. Maybe you should just…

You stop that line of thought before it can grow. No. The two of you have been through too much to regress now. This time, you have to move forward, for both your sakes. 

You open the door further and move to the side.

“C’mon in, Aunt Selena.”

Aunt Selena looks surprised at the invitation and she raises a hand in protest. “Oh, no. I uh… I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure you weren’t… dead, I guess.” She makes a face. “Okay, that sounded better in my head. I don’t know how, it just did.”

“Pleeeease?” You can tell she’s stalling so you try pouting at her. It works wonders on your dad and decently on your mom, maybe it’ll work on your aunt.

She gets a funny look on her face. “Are you constipated? You look constipated.”

You drop the pout and huff. “Oh, just come in, Aunt Selena.” You grab her hand and bring her in, surprising both you and her with your forwardness. “It’s cold and we have dragon-nog.”

The dragon-nog seems to do the trick- Aunt Selena hesitates briefly for a second and then nods and steps in fully, closing the door behind her. “I guess I could stay for a cup if you’re offering. Just one cup, mind you.”

You resist the urge to smirk. A point for you! “Sure.”

You lead her back into the dining room where Mom is putting out the roast as Daddy helps. She looks up when you enter. “Oh, Severa, that was quick. Who was at…” she begins, just as Aunt Selena shuffles into the dining room and your mother jolts up in surprise. “Severa!”

“Yeah?” you say the same time Aunt Selena mutters, “Hi.” The two of you exchange confused glances for a second before Aunt Selena steps forward and presents the wrapped parcel to your parents.

“I bring squash.”

Your expression turns horrified. You _hate_ squash.

Minus one point for you…

Mom and Daddy exchange glances. “Oh, that’s… very kind of you, L-Selena,” Mom says before hesitating. “But, er… What’s the occasion?”

Your aunt sets the squash on the table and shrugs, averting her eyes. She scratches her cheek with a finger, looking vaguely embarrassed.

“It’s Yuletide, isn’t it?”

It takes your parents a moment to parse this simple sentence. Just a moment. And then your mother smiles so wide that it looks like her face will split in half. Your father claps his hands in delight.

“Nyahaha, that’s right it is!” He locks your aunt in a one armed hug, ignoring her protests. “Happy Yuletide, kiddo!”

“Ger’ offa me…” is Aunt Selena’s muffled reply, just before Mom leaps in on the hug. “Oof!” She struggles futilely for a second before resigning herself to their ministrations. Before you can react, she grabs your arm and drags you in as well.

“Now we can all suffer,” she says, looking self-satisfied.

You grin as well. Points for everyone!

*** 

The rest of the afternoon is spent in a generally good mood as you help around the kitchen, preparing for the rest of the guests. Aunt Selena mainly hovers on the side, dragon-nog in one hand, wearing a red stocking cap that Daddy forced on her. She and your parents trade stories of the war and you listen with rapt attention as they reminisce of the days of old.

“I still can’t believe you gave M-Cordelia a severed hand for your first anniversary present!” Aunt Selena takes a swig of her dragon-nog as she watches Daddy sprinkle sugar on the cookies. “A severed hand, for Naga’s sake!” 

“Technically a Risen hand,” you correct. “But still, gross, Daddy.”

He chuckles and throws on enough sugar to give cavities. “What can I say? To the dark mage in love, there’s no such thing as ethics, nya ha!”

“Gag,” you and Aunt Selena say at the same time. 

“Well, I thought it was very sweet,” Mom kisses Daddy on the cheek. “And the bracelet he attached on to it was beautiful. A little bloodied, but still beautiful.” She picks up the tray in front of her and offers it to you. “On that note, some butternut squash, Severa?”

“Uh, I’m good thanks.”

“Severa.” Mom looks at you with her mother look. “At least try it. Aunt Selena will be upset if you don’t.”

Aunt Selena rolls her eyes and sarcastically places a hand over her heart. “Oh, the rejection.”

“Okay, okay already.” You take a piece and choke it down best you can. “There. Deeee-lish.”

Mom nods, satisfied and then offers the plate to Aunt Selena. “Some for you, Selena?” 

Your aunt quickly straightens up. “Oh, uh no, I’m good. I, uh, had some before I came here. Yep.” She glances in your direction and the corners of her lip quirk up. “Besides, I’d hate to deprive Severa any more of your deee-lishous squash.”

Ohhhhh, you are so getting her back for this. Before you can protest, Mom inadvertently comes to the rescue.

“It’s fine; I made plenty for everyone!” She shoves a piece into your aunt’s hands and smiles at her. “Enjoy!”

You burst out laughing at the horrified expression on Aunt Selena’s face.

*** 

Aunt Selena leaves before the first guest arrives, making a vague promise to your protesting parents that she’ll be around more often before they let her go. As she’s lacing up her boots, you suddenly remember what had been niggling the back of your memory ever since she came in.

“Wait a second,” you tell her, bolting off to your room before she can reply. You shove open the door and scan the shelves…There! You snatch it off the shelf and return back to the entrance where Aunt Selena is waiting with a perplexed expression.

“Whoa, slow down, squirt.” She takes her hand off the door knob and places it on your shoulder to prevent you from skidding into the door. “What is it?”

“You…” You pause to catch your breath. “You never took it.”

“Took what?”

You’re too out of breath to say anything so instead, you simply hold out your hand and open it. The fay’s feather lies in it, looking as pristine as the day you found it.

Aunt Selena’s expression instantly turns inscrutable. “Oh. That.”

You nod and offer it to her. “Here. Your Yuletide present.”

Aunt Selena hesitates and bites her lip. Slowly, she puts a hand forward… and then swiftly retracts it. 

“I… I shouldn’t.”

The rejection surprises you. After you went through so much trouble to get it, you didn’t actually think she’d refuse. You lower your hand, feeling dumb. “Oh. Okay…”

Aunt Selena notices the hurt in your expression and she sighs and scratches the back of her head. “No, that came out wrong. Look, squirt,” she pats you on the shoulder to get you to look at her. “I’m… touched that you went all the way to get me another one. I really am. But that feather, it…” She pauses, trying to find the right words. “It has a lot of… memories that come with it.”

The phrase confuses you. “You… you don’t want to remember them?”

“Like I could ever forget.” She shakes her head. “No. My problem is I’d end up stuck in my own head remembering it all. And she… My friend wouldn’t have wanted that.”

The image of Aunt Selena staring at the feather with a dead expression on her face resurfaces in your memory and you slowly nod. “I think…I get that.”

She closes your hand over the feather. “Tell you what. You keep it and make some memories for yourself. And when you think you have enough, you give it to your friend and tell them to do the same. That way, I’ll know it’s going to good use, okay?” She pauses a bit and then adds with a smirk. “Think of it as your early Yuletide present from the best aunt in all of Ylisse.”

“But I’m the one who went and got the feather.”

“Okay, gawds, early Yuletide present to yourself. But the idea was all mine, ya hear?”

“I hear,” you say and then maybe it’s the spirit of the season or maybe it’s the dragon-nog doing its magic, but you wrap your arms around your aunt’s waist in a surprise hug. You feel your aunt stiffen, caught off guard by the gesture.

“Merry Yuletide, Aunt Selena.”

Your aunt is motionless for a second. And then you feel her hand descend on your head. She ruffles your hair a bit, something she must’ve learned from Daddy because he does the same thing and it never fails to make you feel a little pleased inside.

“You too squirt,” your aunt says softly. “Merry Yuletide, Severa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Merry Christmas to all of you and a Happy New Year!


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a few months after Yuletide, during one of your family’s weekly dinner get-togethers, when Aunt Selena suddenly drops a manakete into the room.

“I’m leaving in a week.”

She delivers the news without any preamble or lead-up, right in between an anecdote that Daddy was telling you about a skeleton and its funny bone, and you nearly choke on a dinner roll in surprise. Daddy has to pound you on the back to get you to breathe right again. 

Mom crosses her arms and frowns, but it’s more thoughtful than disappointed as if she knew this was going to happen. If anything, she seems resigned when she asks, “Is this about the stranger who came asking for you last week?”

You shoot a surprised glance at your aunt. You remember that stranger and how ominous he had looked, his face obscured by a hood and only his light azure hair visible in the early morning light. He had asked for your aunt for help in regards to a personal matter. When asked for more details, he had been infuriatingly vague, simply saying that it was an issue that could affect kingdoms and worlds. 

You hadn’t trusted him for a second.

She shrugs, poking nervously at her mostly untouched plate. From the way she turns her head to the side, you can tell that she’s uncomfortable. It’s a habit that… you picked up from her? Or is it vice versa? Who knows at this point.

“No,” she says, then hesitates and changes her mind. “Well, not entirely. There are some… things back at home that I’ve been putting off for too long.” She taps the table with a finger and sighs, looking away out the window. “Things that I need to deal with. After that,” she shrugs again, “well, we’ll see.”

It takes you a second to realize that the home she refers to isn’t the shack next door, but her actual home. You don’t know why, but it surprises you more than you’d like to admit, the fact that she has a real home outside of your parent’s house in the mountains. Surprised and some other feeling in your chest that makes your stomach roll uncomfortably. 

Daddy nods in an understanding sort of way, with a small smile that’s sad at the edges that still reaches his eyes. “Do you want any help?” he asks, seemingly okay with her stupid answer.

“No,” she says quickly but not unkindly. “This is something I need to do for myself.”

What. The. Hell.

The uneasy feeling in your stomach flares into anger. Something she has to do for herself? What’s that even supposed to mean? Last time you tried to do something by yourself, you ended up nearly breaking your neck and freezing to death. You think she’d at least learn from your example but nope! Is she trying to get herself killed?! 

“We understand,” you hear Mom say, and you can’t believe she’s okay with this. She places a hand over Aunt Selena’s and gives her a warm smile. “Just…look after yourself, alright?”

The unease in Aunt Luna expression dissolves and she lets out an exaggerated scoff. “Whatever it that guy needs, I doubt it’s anything I can’t handle. But fine. If it makes you feel better.”

“It would,” says Mom with a small smile before looking curiously over to you. “What’s wrong, Severa? You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time.”

You look up from your plate, carefully schooling your expression to be as blank as possible. Slowly, you put down your knife and fork and get up from the table. You push in your chair. And then you leave, without saying a word.

*** 

Later, in your room, as you hug your pillow close to your chest, you feel like a downright jerk.

It took you a little while of fuming and staring angrily at the ceiling for you to arrive at the conclusion, but after you had calmed down a bit, you realized how much of a brat you were being. Sure, it gave you some cruel satisfaction when you gave her the cold shoulder but now, all you can remember is seeing how crestfallen your aunt looked and how awful it makes you feel now. 

You clench the pillow tighter. You wish your aunt didn’t have to go. Earlier, when you were still angry, you convinced yourself it was because she was just wasting everyone’s time going back home and then embarking on a wild goose chase. But you know that’s not the case. For all her huffing and puffing, you’ve never known Aunt Selena ever to turn her back on someone in need. You think it’s in her blood.

But the real reason you don’t want her to go is because deep, deep down, you know you’ll miss her.

With a sigh, you turn on your side and close your eyes. All this thinking has gotten you nowhere. If anything, you feel even more miserable than before. Maybe tomorrow, you should apologize to her. Yeah. Yeah, you should definitely do that. It’s the least you can do after being such a jerk after all.

With that thought in mind, you drift off into an uneasy sleep.

*** 

The next day comes, and you don’t tell your aunt that you’re sorry.

The day after that is the same. And the one after that, and the one after that, and so on.

You tried! You really did! But every time you did, something came up. Daddy needed someone to help him fix the hole in the roof. Mom needed you to run into town to pick up the groceries. Noire wanted to come over and play, those sort of things.

Okay so maybe you were putting it off. Just a teensy, little bit. But it’s not your fault!

When you had the time, it was just too awkward, and all you could do was stare uncomfortably at your feet every time the two of you were alone in a room. Surprisingly, Aunt Selena doesn’t push the matter, but she also doesn’t say anything either, instead preferring to tip toe around you and clear her throat an annoying number of times.   
It’s frustrating. You wish she’d yell at you, call you a spoiled brat, anything! Do anything but look bummed each time you leave the room without speaking to her.

The closer the date gets, the more ashamed you feel. You’re not angry at her. Well, okay, you were a little, but now, it’s been replaced with a sharp sense of dread at her inevitable departure. You didn’t think she’d actually leave. Not when the two of you were finally seeing eye-to-eye. A part of you honestly thought she’d stay forever, living out the rest of her days in her shack, next to you and your family. And now, you realize, that isn’t fair to her. It’s not fair to force her to stay while she has her own life to live.

So as the days slowly tick by to her departure and the silence between you grows thicker, one thing is clear to you.

Empathy sucks.

*** 

The day Aunt Selena leaves is the day you finally crack. 

As fate would have it, you sleep past your alarm because you were tossing and turning the night before. By the time you wake up, it’s nearly noon, and you practically fall over yourself to get ready for her departure.

You stumble out of your room and rush as fast as you can to the front door. Your parents are already there, with Aunt Selena, about to send her off. Daddy looks up when he hears your footsteps, and he grins at your appearance. “Just in time! We were beginning to think you’d sleep the whole day away!” He gestures to you. “C’mere, kiddo and say goodbye to your aunt.”

Aunt Selena adjusts her satchel, looking uncomfortable at all the attention. “I told you, you should’ve just let her sleep in! There’s no need to make a huge sce-oof!”

Whatever else she has to say gets cut off when you rush forward and wrap your aunt in a bone crushing hug. She starts at the contact but to her credit, after a brief, surprised second, she returns the hug with just as much feeling.

“Knew you couldn’t be angry at me forever.” 

Despite her confident words, you can hear the relief in her voice, and you nod into her chest, not trusting your words at the moment. Gawds, you wish you weren’t such a drama queen. This is all her fault. 

When you finally pull back, there’s a lump in your throat. “I’m gonna miss you,” you admit quietly like it’s some sort of shameful secret and maybe it is. It’d explain your behavior. Explains it, but doesn’t excuse it. 

Aunt Selena looks surprised at your admission for a moment and then her surprise melts into her familiar wry smirk. “Jeez, you’re so much more honest than I was at your age.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh that’s more for show. “I’m gonna miss you too, squirt. Really am.”

You shake your head, unable to say anything with the stupid lump in your throat. She notices and cuffs you gently on the arm. “Hey, hey, chin up. You should be jumping for joy that I’m finally out of your hair, not looking like I kicked your favorite puppy.”

You have to crack a small smile at her backhanded way of comfort. “You’re coming back, right?” Hopefully, that didn’t sound as pathetic as you think it did. You’ll be fifteen in just a couple months’ time, for Naga’s sake. Practically an adult.

Aunt Selena scoffs. “Duh. I mean, who else is going to make sure you keep up with your training? Which reminds me, the next time we spar, you better blow me away with how much better you’ve gotten. Otherwise, I’m turning you into one big, walking bruise, ya hear me?”

Your smile finally smooths over into a real one, and you nod empathetically. “I hear. And I’ll be ready.”

She grins back at you before turning to your parents. After a few seconds of inner debate, she sticks out her hand. “So, thanks again for letting me bum with you guys for so long.” She scratches at her cheek with her free hand. “I know I haven’t been the best house guest or… the nicest or-or… ugh, you know what I mean!” She sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow. Promise.”

Mom steps forward, completely ignoring Aunt Selena’s outstretched hand and gives her a hug instead. “Don’t be silly, Selena. You could never be a burden. You’re family.” She takes a step back and smooths out Aunt Luna’s traveling cloak, fixing her with a fond smile when she finishes. “Take as long as you need. Just know that you’ll always have a home here, with the three of us, alright?”

“That’s right!” chips in Daddy, as he moves in to hug her as well. “Don’t be a stranger!”

Aunt Selena rolls her eyes, looking decidedly squashed between the three of you, but she stays obediently in place as she accepts both of your parents’ suffocating hugs. And honestly, she doesn’t look that upset about it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” she says in a tone that would sound aggravated if not for the small smile playing on her lips. She reaches out to ruffle your hair. “I love you nerds, too.”

*** 

Winter turns into spring, then into summer, fall and before you know it, a whole year has gone by since Aunt Selena left on her journey.

She sends letters when she can, and the weekly mail quickly becomes one of the most anticipated parts of your day, along with the most aggravating. It’s exciting the weeks you get letters from her, disappointing the weeks you don’t.

The poor pegasus rider who delivers the mail to your village probably thinks you’re bipolar now.

You can’t help it. Aunt Selena always has something exciting or new to mention in her letters. She managed to finish her business at home, whatever that was, and now she’s somewhere far, far away, helping the mysterious stranger find his long-lost daughter separated from birth. Apparently, she’s incognito, working from the background to ensure the girl’s safety. It reminds you of tales of knight’s and princesses that your Daddy used to read to you, which is exciting enough. You hope she stays safe though.

She complains how much of a drag it is to be a glorified babysitter, but you can tell that she’s enjoying her work. Anything worth complaining about usually is. 

She doesn’t give you a whole lot of details in her letters, for safety’s sake, but she makes up for it with descriptions of people and places she’s seen that you’ve never heard of. She paints to you a picture of a land where it is always night, and the sun only rises for an hour in the day, and the weather is always cold and gloomy. Yet the people she’s met are anything but.

She tells you about the princess she works for, one of the kindest and fiercest fighter she’s ever met, whose equal parts doting and ferocious, a wicked combination. Then there’s the silent assassin who never smiles and can kill a person a dozen different ways using only her hands and poisons, yet your aunt swears that one time she saw the assassin feeding a squirrel in the woods, talking quietly to it.

There are warrior’s called shinobi, lethal soldiers who move like the wind and can disappear on a whim, though the few shinobi she knows are total dorks in her opinion. Wyverns that can cast magic, a land beneath the water, a mysterious songstress with a voice that could make anyone cry tears of joy or sadness. 

You soak it all in like a sponge, and when you’re done reading each new letter, you’re hungry for more. You’ve even sketched a few of the places she’s described, but you’re pretty sure that whatever you draw can’t do the real thing any justice. In comparison, your life is practically one long snore-fest compared to the adventure she’s having, and you can’t help but feel a little envious each time a new letter arrives.

But you try to keep your jealousy in check and dutifully reply to each letter with your own news. Right now, your aunt is out there, doing her best and you should too. Until then, you’ll count the days until she finally comes home. 

*** 

Sometimes, Aunt Selena will include souvenirs in her letters. Nothing too big, since it needs to fit in a delivery satchel, but little things that she’s seen in her travels. There was a carved wooden owl in one letter, a gift from an orphaned farm girl who she helped save from roaming monsters. Another letter had a curved wyvern tooth in it, huge and yellowing with a tip that looked like it could gore you easily. You stared at it for a while, marveling at the size of the thing and wishing you could see the actual wyvern and not just its tooth. 

Her latest letter had a pressed flower enclosed within, a cute little thing with an elegant stem and vibrantly blue petals. You’d never seen a flower like this before.

_It’s called a Vallan Promise. According to legend, when the great dragon died, the king and queen planted this flower on top of his grave in remembrance. Next thing they know, the whole place is covered in flowers. Apparently, it’s supposed to mean something like fates intertwined, or bonds that transcend time. Can’t remember. It was REALLY corny._

_Give it to one of your friends. I’m sure they’ll love it._

The next time Noire visits, and after quite a bit of hemming and hawing on your part, you finally give the flower to her. You feel oddly nervous doing so, even more so than showing her your sketches.

But really, you’re worried over nothing because Noire takes one look at it and falls in love, declaring it to be the prettiest little thing she has ever seen. She rewards you with an enthusiastic hug in return and for the rest of the day, you can’t stop grinning like an idiot, even though you don’t know why. 

You’ll be sure to thank Aunt Selena next time when you see her in person.

*** 

The most you’ve ever spoken to the pegasus rider who delivers the mail is hello, thank you, and occasionally, well, maybe there’ll be a letter next week. So it comes as a bit of surprise when she suddenly calls out to you by your name. 

“Ah, ‘scuse me, Miss Severa?”

You’ve never told her your name before so you’re caught off guard when she says it so casually and nearly trip mid-step. Your first thought is, ‘who me?’ and wow, that’s a stupid idea and instead you turn back and say, “Y-yeah?”

The Pegasus knight rummages around in her satchel. “You have… another letter…here!” She whips it out with a flourish and gives you a look that is both slightly impressed and envious. “Here ya go. And congratulations! It’s a real honor to be scouted by the academy.”

You take the letter, more than a little bemused. Academy? Scouted? Before you can ask, the Pegasus knight gives you another jaunty wave and takes off. When she’s out of sight, you look more carefully at the letter she handed you. 

Oh wow, is that gold emboss on the envelope? Fancy. Tacky too, but fancy still. 

Wait, isn’t that the royal Ylissean seal?! WHAT?!

You quickly tear the envelope open, careful not to damage the seal and begin reading.

_To S. Highmoon,_

_After careful consideration, the Ylissean Royal Knights Academy is pleased to offer you the rare opportunity to become a Ylissean knight-in-training!_

_Based on the recommendation letter we received, we believe that you have the aptitude and the ethic needed to become a Ylissean squire, and from there, possibly a royal knight. This is a great honor given to a select few who have shown the most promise and initiative. We hope you will take this opportunity to showcase just what you are capable of._

_The squire test will be held in exactly one year in the capital during the month of Augustus. We look forward to hearing from you._

_Sincerely,  
Sir L. Logica, Royal Proctor_

Holy.

Freaking.

Crap.

No way. No freaking way is this possible. Holy freaking crap.

You close your eyes and then open them again. Nope, not a hallucination. The letter is still in your hand, as fancy and tacky as you got it… along with the letter from Aunt Selena that you totally forgot about. You tear into that envelope with much shakier hands and begin reading.

_Hey squirt._

_You’ve probably read the invitation letter from the academy by now. If not, well then this letter isn’t going to make much sense so put this one down and read the other one, dummy._

_I remembered you saying something in your last letter about wanting to see the world when you were older, so I thought, eh, why not? Sooo, just for fun, I submitted a recommendation for you to the royal board. Apparently, my word is worth something there, gods only know why. And they seemed pretty impressed with your school grades too, which probably helped._

_Anyhow, the test is in a year. Feel free to go. Or not. I don’t care. It’s your choice. Just thought you’d like the opportunity._

_Be seeing you,  
Aunt Selena_

Oh boy.

*** 

Your daddy is over the moon when you tell him the news. Oddly enough, your mom is much more subdued, and you find out why after the celebratory dinner your daddy cooked.

“I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with Severa,” she admits after the table is cleared. “If you become a squire it’ll be because you wanted to, not to follow in our footsteps.”

It’s a small amount of comfort, and you nod gratefully. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier to make a decision. On one hand, you’d be able to leave home and see the world, something you’ve been dreaming about for the past year. On the other hand, you’d have to leave home and everyone else behind. And that scares you more than you’d like to admit.

“The squire test…” you say after a pause. Your parent’s wait patiently for you to continue as you try to find the right words that won’t make you sound ungrateful. “Do you think… it’s right for me?”

Your parent’s exchange confused glances, and you rush to clarify. “I don’t know. What if they made a mistake? I’m not anything special.”

“What d’ya mean, kiddo?” Daddy asks. “You’ve got talent in spades.”

But you shake your head. “I’m not anything special. You two and Aunt Selena are the heroes.”

You’re not stupid. You’re old enough now to have heard the stories about your parents during the great war, and it still boggles your mind sometimes. How they went toe to toe with a fel dragon and won. Compared to that, you’re nothing special. Daughter to heroes. That’s it.

Understanding crosses their faces, and Mom leans back to consider your words. “I won’t lie,” she admits slowly after a brief pause. “I’ve known people with an exceptional amount of potential that just couldn’t make it. It was always hard to watch those people go. There were a few times when I thought I was going to be one of those people as well.”

She looks to you and smiles reassuringly. “But, I don’t think we have to worry about that with you.”

“Why?”

Daddy is the one who answers your obvious question. “Well, if your aunt thinks you're good enough, why wouldn't we?”

*** 

“You should do it.”

You twist around in surprise and look up at Noire. “Really? You think I should?”

She smiles gently at your astonishment and gently turns your head back to face forward before resuming brushing your hair. From your position on the floor, you try not to fidget as she sits on your bed and explains her reasoning.

“Really. Didn’t you say you always wanted to get out of your village and see the world?”

“Well… yeah.”

“And don’t the Ylissean knights have stations all across the globe?” You nod, and she continues. “Then there’s your chance. Plus, think of the prestige! Severa, Royal Ylissean Knight, Guard to the Exalt!”

You have to admit, that does sound pretty sweet. But, no you’re getting ahead of yourself. “That’s if I even pass the squire’s test,” you counter, “and then I have to train to take the knight’s test.” Huh. Now that you think about it, there are a butt load of tests just to get the opportunity to train in the academy. No wonder so many people dropped out.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” she replies confidently, twisting your hairbands around your hair, though something feels a bit off to you as she does it. “You’re the hardest working person I know, Severa. And didn’t you say that Cynthia’s mom would be helping you along the way?”

“Yeah. Mom’s good friends with Cynthia’s mom and apparently, Cynthia’s dad was a drill instructor for the older knights and the Shepherds.” 

“Then there you have it!” Noire says, finishing up with your hair. Her next words sound rough as if she’s speaking with a stuffed nose and cold. “You have everything you need and all the reasons to-to go!”

“Well, yeah but,” you start to say and then stop.

“What?”

But won’t you miss me? is what you were nearly going to say. But that’s childish and selfish and just so silly that you mentally smack yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

So instead, you bite your tongue and say, “Nothing. You’re right.” You hope it’s as convincing as it sounds. You’re not sure if you believe it yourself. “Thanks for being so supportive, Noire.”

“Of- of course.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, and you’re acutely aware of how awkward it is. Your hands fiddle in your lap. It’s rare when the two of you are at a loss for words, but right now, you have no idea what to say to express what you’re feeling.

Finally, you decide on five honest ones.

“I’m going to miss you.”

For a second, there’s no response from her. And then you hear a sniffle.

Oh…

You start to turn around but a hand on your head stops you. “D-don’t look,” you hear her stammer, and now you understand why it sounded like she was sick earlier. “I-I-I have something in my-my eye.”

“Noire…” Gently, you move the hands away and turn around. Noire turns her head away when you do, wiping hastily at her eyes and sniffling again.

“Sorry. I’m s-sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I-I just… sorry. I just wanted t-to be supportive for you. A-and I was really, really h-happy for you w-when you told me the n-news. I-it’s just…”

“Just what?” You gently prod, taking her hand in yours and trying to give as much comfort through the grip as you can. “What Noire? You can tell me. I won’t get angry. Honest.”

“I-I…” Noire takes a shuddering breath. “I-I’m gonna m-miss you too,” she sniffles miserably. “I’m s-sorry, I-I’m just… being a b-big wuss a-and…and…”

“Oh, shush you,” you hold her hand tighter because if she goes on any longer, you’ll probably be crying too. You’re not a sympathy crier, but Noire can turn you into one. The point is to comfort her, not make her feel even more miserable. “You're not a wuss at all, alright? If anything, you’re being the perfect friend by missing me so much already. It’s sweet.”

She chuckles wetly at that. “I-I am… I’m happy for you, S-Severa. I really am.” Noire wipes at her eye and then sighs. “I wanted to see you off with a smile, but I-I guess I messed that up… along w-with your h-hair. S-sorry.”

What does she mean by that- oh. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror, and you have to grimace a bit. Under her weepy touch, your twin tails have somehow turned into… triple tails, with two of them being noticeably more lopsided than the other one but you can’t bring yourself to be too upset. The effort she put into it was sweet enough, even though it explains why your head feels as if it’s being pulled in three different directions.

“It’s fine! Really!” You tear out one of the bands and try not to wince. “I was looking to change it up anyway.”

Your joke falls flat, and she continues to cry quietly, though not as heavily as before. You hesitate. There are only a few things in the world that can make you feel like an utter jerk. One of them is Noire crying and you being the source of those tears just makes it worse.

“Noire. If you don’t want me to go… then I won’t.”

Her reaction is instantaneous. “W-what? N-no!” She holds your hand even tighter, the tears in her eyes suddenly replaced with an earnest look. “Y-you can’t Severa. This is y-your chance, y-you opportunity of a lifetime.”

“But-!” you start to say, but she interrupts you.

“You can’t s-stay. That’s not fair, t-to you or me.”

She looks so earnest and tearful, and it just hits you. Those same words uttered back to you, and the wave of déjà vu that comes with them. 

“And I-I know,” Noire continues, averting her eyes while you stare intently back at her, “I know, d-deep down, you want to go too.”

And she’s right; you know it as well. Becoming a knight, seeing the world, it’s all a chance for you to make something of yourself. The only thing holding you back is your own insecurities.

You sigh and tug her hand. She complies and you gently bump your forehead with hers. It’s your way of apology and comfort and Noire gratefully closes her eyes at the warm contact.

“When did you get to know me better than I know myself,” you mumble. Noire giggles weakly, but the tears have stopped so you take that as an encouraging sign.

“M-maybe you’re not as aloof and mysterious as you think,” she jokes back, and you have to crack a grin at that. Her expression turns serious then, and she looks you back in the eye. “P-promise me that you’ll visit when you c-can.”

“Definitely. I’ll visit so much that I’ll practically live in your house until you get sick of me and kick me out.” Ylisse is only a day and a half away, which means nothing to you if it makes her happy. “Anything else?”

She opens her mouth, and then promptly closes it. “N-no. It’s silly.”

“Noire…”

She ducks her head again. “J-just d-don’t forget me when you leave.”

You blink dumbly. What does she mean by- oh. Oh.

“That’s a stupid promise,” you say, and her head shoots up in surprise, “because I could never forget you in a million, billion years. You’re my best friend. Like I could ever forget you.”

“R-really?”

“Duh. You could be gone for a day or a century, and I’d still remember you for the rest of my life. In fact,” an idea suddenly strikes you and you reach around to your backpack, “let’s make a different promise.”

You're pretty much thinking this idea up on the fly, and you barely have enough time to think if this is a good idea or not before you take out the fay feather from your backpack. Noire inhales sharply when she sees what’s in your hand and her expression changes from curious to awestruck.

“I-is that… a fay’s feather? Where on earth did you get that?”

“It’s a long story.” You hold it out to her. “Here. I think you need this a little more than I do right now.”

Noire quickly backs away. “O-oh, n-no! I-I couldn’t…”

“You can,” you insist, grabbing her arm before she can scoot away further. “My aunt said to make some good memories with the feather and honestly, I think I’ve made enough. So instead, I’m going to give it you with my promise. That when I become a full-fledged knight, I’ll come back for it. And then you and me, we’ll see the world and everything in it, together, as best friends and partners. 

You tuck the feather in between her little headpiece and slips in so naturally, like it’s always belonged there, nestled right in her hair. “That’s my promise to you.”

Noire stares openly at you, not a sound passing her lips. It goes on long enough that you have to force yourself not to fidget because, oh gawds, you just spouted some of the corniest lines ever what were you thinking?! Just as you begin to feel your face heat up, she lets out the breath she’d been holding.

“If it were anyone else, I’d ask them again just to make sure.” She places her hand over yours and smiles. “But it’s you, and you’ve never broken a promise to me, ever. So I believe you, and I’ll hold you that promise.”

She leans forward, and before you can realize what’s happening, a feather light kiss is being placed on your cheek. When she moves back, her cheeks are flushed an adorable pink, and you realize that you have your own stupid smile on your face.

“Thank you, Severa.” She ducks her head again but then seems to change her mind and looks at you from beneath her fringe. “I’ll cherish it.”

You should say something, but it’s kinda hard to find words right now because all your senses are pleasantly addled. In the end, you settle on blustering out some remark because bluster works great with your aunt. Might as well try it out yourself. “Well… y-you better.” You tip your head up and look away. “After all, I nearly broke my neck and froze to death trying to get it.”

“I know.” Here her expression changes to a frown of mild disapproval. “I still haven’t forgiven you for not telling me about your plan, by the way. But I’ll save the lecture for when you come back to visit.”

“Oh joy,” you deadpan, flopping back onto the bed. “Well, at least it’s something to look forward to.”

Noire laughs again, and you join in after a second of trying to hold it back. Okay, so maybe bluster isn’t your thing, but you still have time to learn it. 

After a moment, she leans back and brushes her hair to the side, careful not to disturb the feather.

“How does it look, by the way?”

You sit up and give her a careful look. Hm… You decide to answer her honestly. 

“Pretty.”

The adorable pinkness comes back to her cheeks. “Y-you’re just saying that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until you get it through that head of yours because it’s the truth and I’m right! You’re stupidly, absurdly pretty, Noire. You got it?”

Noire’s blush seems to intensify, much to your pleasure. “A-are we talking about the feather or?” she asks, self-consciously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and the simple gesture strikes you with inspiration.

“Don’t move!”

She freezes, hand still behind her ear. “W-what?”

You ignore her and rummage in your backpack. “Don’t move,” you repeat, taking out your sketchbook and pencil. You wonder if this is what they mean when they say an artist’s inspiration is a slave to its muse. Well, at least your muse is cute. “That’s a good image…” You line up the pencil with her form and flip to a free page. “Perfect.”

“Are… are you seriously drawing me right now?”

“Can’t talk,” you mutter, glancing up before quickly sketching out lines on the paper. “Artist at work. Very delicate process. Don’t move.”

“My legs are falling asleep.”

“Can you tell them to not?”

“That’s not how it works, Severa.” You can hear the amusement in her voice.

“Can you tell them to not for me?”

Noire sighs, but it’s more for show since you can hear the fondness in her tone as she complies with your demands. “Well, for you, I suppose I could. Just this once.”

“I love you too, Noire.”


	6. Finale (Part I)

“Highmoon! Highmoon! Report to the front to receive your number and badge!”

Above the din inside the training hall, the proctor calls out your name and your stomach does a little nervous flip. With a deep breath and a sidelong glance at your companions, you get up from your seat and make your way over to the registration table.

“Stay strong, Sev!” Cynthia calls out to you.

Beside her, Kjelle snorts. “She’s just getting her registration number. Pretty sure she can handle that.”

Well, that’s one vote of confidence for you at least.

The proctor at the front looks more than a little harried, and he barely glances at you when you hand him your papers along with the letter of recommendation from your aunt. “Highmoon, right?” he asks, not bothering to wait for you answer. He quickly stamps your papers, accidentally catching a bit of his sleeve with the stamp and hands you a slip of paper. “Here’s your number. Don’t lose it. It’ll double as your registration badge to get in and out of the testing centers. Clear?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to get anything out other than a high-pitched squeak at the moment. It’s good enough to satisfy the proctor, and he waves you off as he calls out the next person.

“Good luck and Naga bless.”

Cynthia is a ball of nervous energy when you make your way back. She leaps up to meet you and quickly gets into your personal space along with Kjelle, both of them trying to get a glimpse of the slip of paper clutched tightly in your sweaty palms. “What’s your number? Tell, tell, tell!”

Six months ago you would have chewed them out for getting so close and personal. But now, after the intense training camp Cynthia’s father put the three of you through, you’re a little less inclined to make a fuss over it because well… that’s just who they are. Cynthia is annoyingly bubbly, and Kjelle is annoyingly stoic. And they’re your friends, simple as that.

So instead of telling them to buzz off, you glance at the paper in your hands. “I’m 2140E. Whatever that means.”

“Oooh, lucky!” Cynthia lights up, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet like a child waiting for sweets. “Me and Kjelle are in the E block as well. That’s a good omen, as mom would say! Flower fortunes and all!”

“Or pure coincidence,” Kjelle interjects, looking bluntly unimpressed, but being blunt is second nature to her, so you and Cynthia don’t pay it much mind. 

Cynthia prattles on some more about luck and flower fortunes, and you listen with one ear, opting instead to scan the room and to take it all in. And it’s a lot to take in. It’s hard to believe that six months ago, the inside of the Royal Ylissean Knight Academy was just a far off dream. Now you’re actually here! You’re tempted to pinch yourself just to make sure you aren’t having a very lucid sort of hallucination.

The hall is packed to the gills with numerous squire hopefuls like yourself. This is the first time you’ve seen so many people your age, being from the boonies and all. Though there are a few hopefuls that look a tad… overkill. One boy, who looks much older than squire appropriate age, has a particularly nasty looking scar on the right side of his face that extends all the way to his chin. To his side, a girl in the corner polishes an overwhelmingly large claymore that practically dwarfs her diminutive size. Meanwhile, a group of hooded trainees mills about near the doors, their faces obscured and wickedly curved swords hanging from their belts. 

Jeez, forget overkill. Just looking at them makes you feel underdressed and unprepared. You nervously adjust your bracer. Kjelle notices and places her hand on your shoulder.

“Not getting cold feet now, are you?” she asks you directly, her way of reassuring you. “I hope not. We’ve cried, sweated and bled too much to give in now.”

You roll your eyes at the charming mental image but feel your nerves settle down just a bit at the blunt reassurance that Kjelle gives off. “Sweat and bled, maybe. Cynthia’s the only one who cried.”

“That one time!” But Cynthia says it in such a dramatic fashion with a little added hand gesture that it gets the two of you to crack a smile. “And it was because I got dust in my eyes, NOT because Daddy was yelling at us to “move faster and pick up every pebble off the road!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” mumbles Kjelle, softly enough that only you can hear her. 

Cynthia continues. “But seriously, this place has gotten bigger since the last time Dad took me here.” She cranes her neck back, far back enough that she nearly tumbles head over heels if not for Kjelle’s quick reflexes. “I mean, I know the Ylissean barracks didn’t have this entrance hall five years ago. And those stables! Oh man!” Her eyes shine as she remembers the sheer size of the stables. “A knight’s dream come true! Oooh, this is going to be so awesome once we’re full-fledged squires!”

You and Kjelle exchange glances. _If we get in_ , goes unspoken between you two.

A loud voice suddenly cuts through the din of the hall, interrupting your thoughts and Cynthia’s chattering.

“Everyone in E block head to the testing hall. I repeat, all participants in E block, please head to the testing hall.” 

The butterflies are back in your stomach now. A glance to Cynthia and Kjelle show you nervous expressions that mirror your own, all traces of levity wiped away. 

“Time to do this,” you say.

*** 

The Exam Hall is more a large classroom than an actual hall, with high windows that stretch all the way to the ceiling that show the training courtyard outside. Desks are lined up neatly in rows that extend to the front of the room where the proctor, a mage from the looks of his hat and spectacles, finishes placing a paper on the desk. He looks up when the door opens, and the first testers file in.

“Ah, excellent. Right on time. If everyone will please find their numbers on the desks, we can get started.”

The three of you share a quick, tight smile before splitting up to your respective desks. You get a desk in the relative middle of the room; Cynthia is four desks down, Kjelle, just behind you.

A good omen, you can’t help but think, and the thought calms your nerves just a bit.

The mage clears his throat when the last person finally sits down. “Welcome to the written portion of the squire’s test.” Hushed whispering suddenly erupts from somewhere near the front, and the mage sighs and removes his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “And yes, to all of you finding out just now, there is a written portion, which we clearly state in the recommendation letter we sent each and every one of you.”

Even four desks away, you can hear Cynthia audibly gulp, and you have to stifle a snicker. She was the biggest complainer whenever you dragged her and Kjelle to the library to do some extra studying. _We’ll be knights, Sev, not bookworms! Besides, everyone knows that the written portion is a myth. They just say it to freak everyone out!_

You really shouldn’t say, I told you so, because it’s petty. But you’re totally going to say it.

“Becoming a Ylissean knight is more than just raw courage and strength,” the mage continues once the whispering dies down. “A Ylissean knight is a well-rounded individual, peerless in his or her goal of constant self-improvement. Intelligence and integrity.” The mage casts a sharp gaze across the room. “That is what set’s the Ylissean knight’s code apart from all other’s. Else, we’d be knighting every ignoramus that could pick up a stick and wave it around threateningly. But that is a lecture for another time.”

The mage clears his throat again. “You will have one full hour to complete the test. Getting up from your seat any time during the test will result in an automatic failure. Can’t have all of you conveniently going to the bathroom or sharpening your pencils at the same time now, can we? Incidentally, if any of you need to do either of those two things, I suggest you do them now.” A few people hastily get up and run to the doors.

“A note on cheating,” the mage says once everyone is back in their seats, “simply do not.” He punctuates the simple statement with a rather disapproving frown that causes a few people in the front to squirm nervously. “I grade every single test and possess an eidetic memory. Contrary to what you may think, I WILL know. And the consequences will be, to put it lightly, severe.” He pauses and looks around the room. “Now, with that out of the way, are there any questions?”

When no one says anything, the mage nods, as if expecting the silence. “Very well.” He takes out a small pocket watch from within his robes and clicks the lid open. “Your hour starts…now. Begin!”

There’s a flurry of noise, papers being hastily turned over. You pick up your own and flip it over, scanning the first question. A few seats ahead, Cynthia groans audibly.

_1\. Translate the following old Plegian sentence into standard Ylissean: Grossen wuldan actz freen…_

…What?

WHAT?! What is this-?! You blink and grab the stupid paper and bring it up close and personal. Translation? Nobody said there was going to be something as vague as a translation on the test!

The pencil in your hand begins to bend as your panic quickly escalates. What kind of squire needs to suddenly translate old Plegian anyway?! What does the question have anything to do with knights?!

Behind you, you can hear Kjelle breathing angrily through her nose. You would do the same if you weren’t so busy panicking at the moment. Old Plegian? If it were modern, maybe you’d have a sliver of a chance at flubbing some of the words. But old Plegian? That’s deader than Kjelle’s fashion sense.

You’re done. Dead. Demolished. Screwed. So, so, so, so-

_Brat, she says, and there’s even a little bit of affection in the way she says it. She knocks you lightly on the head. Alright, listen up. The first line is cratz urglutavak vas scheel…_

The memory comes back to you with all the force of a careening wyvern. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Calm down. You can do this. You’ve been working non-stop for six months for this moment, and nothing is going to stop you now. You can do this. You can do this.

_Of course you can do this, an achingly familiar voice says in your head, one that you haven’t heard in a year. I’d disown you if I didn’t think you could, so quit whining and go knock their socks off, ya hear?_

You open your eyes and pick up your pencil.

_1\. Translate the following old Plegian sentence into standard Ylissean:_

_The young girl lives on the endless plain. The young girl has a royal claim. The young girl is of noble name…_

*** 

Somehow, through the powers of miraculous recall, recitation, and random guessing, you manage to finish the test with just a minute to spare. Some of the anxiety must’ve still been on your face because when you go to hand it in, the mage gives you an encouraging smile before silently directing you to the exit.

Outside, various other students are milling about in the hallway with varying levels of nausea and shell shock plastered on their faces, as if they had just come out of a war. Or a training session with Cynthia’s dad because some of those expressions you're kind of familiar with.

You don’t have to wait long before the entire room empties, and Cynthia and Kjelle join you a minute later, both of them looking slightly dazed, Cynthia stumbling a few paces. You immediately set to grilling the two on the answers they put down.

“What about number twelve?”

Kjelle scratches her head, looking slightly put out at being questioned so soon after the test but she humors you. “The one about the apples and prices, right? I think I put down five gold a piece.”

“Shoot. I put down ten. Cynthia?”

She glances between the two of you, a haunted look in her eyes. She turns to the wall with a despondent sigh and knocks her head on the stone. “I put C.”

You and Kjelle are quiet.

“I thought it was multiple choice.”

The two of you wince, but before anything else can be said, the door bursts open and somebody exits from the classroom. 

“Heyooo, look alive people! C’mon, c’mon, up and at ‘em! You thought that was tough, well, you guys are in for a treat!”

Cynthia looks up and then jumps up excitedly in recognition. “Cynthia the 2nd!”

You look up, and your neck nearly breaks from the force of your double take because you holy crap, standing right in front of you is another Cynthia.

Well… not exactly. They look identical, but the woman in front of you is noticeably older and taller than your friend. There are also a few scars on her arms and marks peppered over her face that only come with age and a lot of sunlight. Plus, the flecks of grey in her hair are a dead giveaway to who’s who, age-wise at least. Still though… It’s like seeing double. 

The woman with Cynthia’s face does a little salute back and grins and, oh wow. They have the exact same grin. “Cynthia the 1st!” she yells, just as loudly as your friend. “We meet again!”

Cynthia the 2nd, as it turns out, (Cynthia’s sister? Or cousin? You’re not sure. You’re Cynthia was pretty vague when explaining it. Cynthia the 2nd wasn’t much better. “You’ll understand when your older,” she says with a careless wave of her hand) is the proctor for the next part of the test. She does some sort of secret handshake with her counterpart that ends with a high five and a ridiculous looking pose.

“So, how’d you guys do on the test? I swear, Laurent makes them harder and harder each year just to get a laugh. You know, last year, he made all the answers to every question the letter C!”

Cynthia visibly deflates at that, and the smile slips straight off her face.

Cynthia the 2nd straightens up and claps her hands, drawing all the attention to her. “Okay people! You’ve all done awesomely to get up to this point! And if you didn’t, don’t sweat it, cuz the next part is definitely the part you’ve all been training for.” Her grin widens and you can practically feel the tension in the room build up around you. “The test of combat… TO THE DEATH!”

Panicked, excited babble immediately breaks out and Cynthia the 2nd lets them play out for a second before breaking down into a fit of giggles. “Kidding! Kidding! Gods, should’ve seen your faces, ha!” “Anyhoo,” she continues, ignoring the dirty looks being thrown her way, “all of you will wait here until your name is called. When you’re called, follow the hall to the armory. You’ll have five minutes to pick your equipment and gear up. Afterward, you’ll head straight for the training grounds, where you’ll face one of our very own Ylissean knights in a test of one-on-one combat!”

“But don’t worry!” she hastily adds at the horrified looks on everyone’s faces. “You’ll be graded on how well you fight, not the actual result of it because well… Real talk, each and every one of you is probably going to get mauled. Figuratively and not literally. Hopefully. That being said!” Cynthia the 2nd raises her voice to be heard over the outbreak of anxious whispers. “That being said, it’d look reeeeal nice to the judges if you could score some hits on the proctors.”

“How many hits do we have to score to pass?” A boy in the back calls out.

Cynthia the 2nd rubs her chin. “Hmmm. Well, there’s no official ruling but… maybe three, four solid hits? That or disarming them, but good luck with that.” She glances around and shakes her head. “Oh, cheer up guys! It’s not that bad, really! You’ve got this!”

With that, she strikes another pose and grins. “Repeat after me. I’ve got this! C’mon people, lemme hear those voices! I’ve got this!”

“I’ve got this,” you mutter, feeling equal parts queasy and stupid. Kjelle says it with such seriousness that it sounds more like a threat than a cheer. Cynthia is the only one who shouts it back though something's missing in her voice. Everyone else just sort of mumbles.

“That’s the spirit! Let’s get this show on the road! First up, can I get… sorry, this name’s smudged on my paper… Eliwood! Is there an Eliwood here?”

Once she leaves, the room descends into nervous chattering. 

“Did she say three solid hits? Just how good are these testers?”

“I heard from a friend, one of the testers is a taguel. An actual taguel!”

“Are you serious?! How are we going even to land a hit on a taguel?!”

Well, this is doing nothing for your self-esteem, so you tune them out and turn to your friends. “How’re you two feeling?” you ask if only to distract yourself from the inevitable mauling. Figurative and not literal. Hopefully.

Kjelle just crosses her arms and grunts, which translates into something like ready-but-nervous. Cynthia, on the other hand, surprises you with her response.

“I’m so screwed.”

Not what you were expecting, and judging by the quickly surprised glance Kjelle throws your way, neither was she. “Why do you say that?” you cautiously probe.

Cynthia just groans again in response, her head finding its way back to the stone wall. “You heard Cynthia the 2nd! We’re going to get mauled.”

“Figuratively!”

“And not literally. Hopefully,” Kjelle unnecessarily adds, and you glare daggers back at her because seriously, NOT HELPING.

Cynthia makes a depressing sound you’ve never heard her make before, something between a groan and sigh. Kjelle glances over to you again, looking just as lost as you feel. _Is she alright?_ she mouths silently.

All you can do is shrug helplessly. You’ve never had to deal with Cynthia like this before and your baffled to what to do or say even. During your training, Cynthia was always the optimistic, the one who always cheered the three of you on with a peppy catch phrase and brilliant grin. 

“I wonder if this is what our parent’s felt like when they were becoming knights,” Cynthia muses as if to herself. “This... pressure.”

Kjelle opens her mouth before you can stop her. “Unlikely. Our parents are heroes. This was probably like a walk in the park for them.”

If your glare were actually a real dagger, Kjelle would be a pincushion of holes right about now. She winces and clamps her mouth shut when she realizes the implications of her statement, but the damage is done.

“You’re right,” Cynthia intones in a very un-Cynthia, very creepy monotone. “What was I thinking? This was nothing to them.” She begins to drop her head into the wall, and you wince at each meaty thump. “Like a walk in the park. Like stealing candy from a baby. Like slicing the arm off a Risen. Like-”

Yeesh, and you thought you were cynical. Kjelle eyes you with a terribly panicked look and mouths ‘do something’ to you as Cynthia’s comparisons get progressively more and more graphic.

“Okay, okay, time out.” You place your hand in between her head and the wall before she can cause herself any lasting damage, gawds know that she needs anymore. “What’s this all about?” you ask, using the voice that Mom would use in this sort of situation, slow and soft, like calming down a frightened pegasus. “And be honest. We won’t judge you for it.”

“Promise,” Kjelle adds quickly as if to make up for her previous foot-in-mouth statements.

Cynthia looks hesitantly between the two of you and from the way she fiddles with her gauntlets, you can tell that she’s torn. You wait patiently and after a few more seconds, she slowly opens her mouth.

“It’s… Look, I’m only telling you this because your parents are just as famous as mine, okay?” There’s nothing jealous in her voice; it’s a simple fact that you’ve learned early on, in school, in the pictures and stories, in the awed whisperings of villagers. And if you’re totally honest, it’s lost most of its pizzazz after learning about it for the hundredth time in history class. 

“What I say today, never leaves this group. And never gets back to our parents. Swearsies.”

Kjelle nods solemnly. “Sister swear?”

“Sister swear.”

“Cross our hearts, hope to die,” you say, finishing the pledge. The three of you link pinkies.

Cynthia looks away briefly. When she looks back, there’s more than just uncertainty in her eyes.

“Do you ever feel like... we’ll never be as good as them?”

And suddenly, ghosts of old whispers come rushing into your head.

_If I were you!_

_You’re not me!_

_You’re you. You’re Severa._

“Well of course not,” you say. Kjelle and Cynthia look at you, surprise written all over their faces, and you have to snort at their dumbfounded expressions. “Of course we’ll never compare to them.”

“Severa what are you-” Kjelle starts to say as Cynthia’s face begins to crumple, but you continue before she can finish.

“We’ll never compare to them because we’re our own people, you dummy. We’re ourselves.”

If that doesn’t fall underneath the category of cheesiest things you’ve ever said, you’re not sure what will. You should be dying of embarrassment, but Kjelle is looking intrigued, and even Cynthia has started to straighten in attention. So you keep talking, slowly sorting out the memories in your head into words.

“Look, it’s like comparing apples to bananas or however the stupid thing goes. We’ll never be as good as our parents. And that’s okay. Because we’re going to be even better than them. We’ll be the best. We’ll work ten times harder, fight ten times harder, and train ten times harder. And we’ll do it all on our own, for ourselves. 

You think our parents are heroes well, guess what? We can be heroes as well. We’ll be our own heroes.”

Hell, you’re not even sure if what you’re saying makes any sense, just that it seems like the right thing to say. But when you look back to the two, you see Kjelle nodding, as if in approval and Cynthia looking at you with something like to stars in her eyes.

“Gods, Sev…,” she says, a little breathless, and then squeals and throws her arms around you. “That was the coolest thing I have ever heard you say. Ever!”

And like that, you’re embarrassed now. You sniff and scratch at your cheek with a finger while gingerly removing yourself from her crushing hug. “Yeah, well. Someone here needed to pep talk.”

“Be ourselves…” Kjelle mutters again, mostly to herself. “Be ourselves.”

Cynthia jumps up, her previous misery replaced with a newfound energy and cheer. “Be our own heroes!” She does her weird little fist pump and grins at you. “Man, that’s just… the most awesome line! Be our own heroes! Just…so cool!” She suddenly stops mid-jump, and you can tell she’s just had a sudden idea. She turns to you, eyes now burning with a passion of a thousand fiery infernos.

“If we’re going to be heroes, we’re going to need a title.”

Oh gods. What have you wrought? “No.”

“C’mon, Sev! All the legends have titles! We need something for the citizens to call us when we become heroes. Something cool and awesome like the Dawn Brigade! Or- or, the Justice Cabal!”

“I thought you said Owain and Marc came up with the name for your dork squad.”

“I approved of it! And- HOLY HORSE FEATHERS! That’s it!” Cynthia grabs you by the shoulders. “The Justice Riders! We can be the Justice Riders!”

That’s…! Honestly not as bad as you thought it might be... And dammit, it does sound a little cool. You wriggle out of her grasp and try to deflect. “As if that’d work! You’re the only one with a mount, remember?”

“Kjelle can ride a horse if she wanted to,” Cynthia counters. “She just likes her armor better. And I’ve seen you with Huey! You’re a natural with him!”

“I-! That was just… I p-picked up a c-couple of tips from my Mom, alright?!” you stutter, mortified at having been caught. So you may have unwittingly bonded with one of Cynthia’s mom’s farm pegasus’s during those last six months. So you may have taken him out for a ride or two. At midnight. When no one else was around to see. “How do you even know about that?!”

“I am the Pegasus whisperer.”

“You’re dead meat, is what you are.”

Before you can make good on your promise, however, Kjelle suddenly speaks up.

“I like the name. Justice Riders.”

You groan as Cynthia whoops in excitement. Kjelle shoots you an apologetic grin.

“Sorry. But you have to admit, it’s catchy.”

“That settles it!” Cynthia declares in an absurdly regal tone. Before you can protest the decision, she drags the two of you in, and you grudgingly let her. Pick your battles and what not. “From this day forth, the legend of the Justice Riders, begins!” she crows, stretching out her hand as if to capture this moment in time forever. 

For a second, the three of you are silent, simply taking the grandeur of it all in.

And then Kjelle says bluntly, “Dibs on Justice Blue.”

Cynthia objects with an affronted gasp. “I wanted to be blue. Blue’s my color!”

“Too late, called dibs.”

“You two are soooo childish,” you say before smirking at the two of them. “I call Red.”

“Oh come on! Red was my second choice!”

“Too bad, so sad.”

“You guys are the worst Justice Riders ever. EVER!”

The door opens and Cynthia the 2nd sticks her head out, smiling confusedly when she sees you and Kjelle laughing and Cynthia with a pout big enough to make a toddler jealous. “Yo, good to see the nerves haven’t gotten to you guys.” She opens the door. “You guys ready?”

Cynthia nods and just like that, she’s grinning again. “You bet!” She turns to you and sticks out her hand. “Let’s go be heroes!”


	7. Finale (Part 2)

The first thing that you notice when you enter the training grounds and the three of you go your separate ways is the size.

Because holy horse feathers, is it HUGE.

Your breath catches once you enter the training grounds, and you have to twist your head every which way just to see it all. It’s so much bigger than the brief glimpse you got back in the testing hall, and even that glimpse hardly did it justice. 

To your left are the stables and in front of you are the dueling rings. You can see other participants fighting in their rings with varying degrees of success. You hear the clash of metal, mixing in with the hubbub of yells and yelps. A little farther beyond the ring is the stands, a group of spectators observing the ongoing matches.

Your ring is a little off to the right. Once you make your way over, you see two people already waiting for you. One of them is Cynthia the Second and she waves encouragingly at you once she catches your attention. And the other person…

Whoever they are, they’re clad from head to toe in black riding armor that’s even more intimidating up close. And sharp. You gulp and try not to stare too hard but jeez, does armor need that many points?

The helm they’re wearing is in the shape of a wyvern head, the lips pulled back in a wicked snarl with razor sharp teeth framing the whole thing. In the entire ensemble, only Wyvern face’s lips are visible, and they’re slanted downwards in a severe looking frown. 

You gulp again. If you’re lucky- and that’s a huge if- Wyvern face is the proctor and Cynthia the Second is your opponent.

“Ah, good timing!” Cynthia the Second hops off the ring fence and lands next to Wyvern face. “Anyhoo, say hello to dour-puss, your tester for the combat portion of the exam!

Of course your luck would decide to bail out on you. Of course it would.

“Standard duel rules apply,” Cynthia the Second continues blithely on as you feel your stomach drop lower and lower the longer she continues while Wyvern face looks on impassively, arms crossed. “No hits below the belt, stay in the ring or risk forfeit, yadda yadda, super simple stuff. Duel ends when one fighter is incapacitated or if one of you is seriously injured. Obviously, don’t let that happen. Any questions?”

You shake your head, not trusting your tongue at the moment. Wyvern face shrugs imperceptibly, barely raising their shoulders. Damn. You wish you were feeling half as cool as… whoever the hell Wyvern face is.

You draw your sword, hand relatively steady. Wyvern face remains motionless, arms still crossed over their chest. The sun pounds down overhead, but you can feel cold sweat beginning to bead on your brow. You barely feel it over the anticipation bubbling in your veins. This is it. This is what you’ve been training so hard for. _Just a little more…_

“Everyone ready?” Cynthia the 2nd drops her hand. “Begin!”

You barely have time to blink, and suddenly wyvern face is right in front of you, sword in hand and arcing downward towards your skull.

_Clang!_

Steel clashes against steel in an ear-piercing screech as you barely lift your sword in time to parry the blow. You stumble back a step, caught completely flat-footed by the suddenness of the attack. Crap! What the hell?! Even with all that armor on, Wyvern face is stupid fast.

The thought is scarcely out of your head when Wyvern face leaps forward with another slash that you clumsily deflect. The force of the impact shudders uncomfortably through your arm. You grit your teeth and counter with a stab of your own that gets easily sidestepped.

The two of you back off for a second. The whole skirmish couldn’t have lasted more than twenty seconds, but already, you’re breathing heavily as if you’ve run a mile wearing weights. Wyvern face looks unfazed. 

_Calm down. Inhale. Exhale. Now… Attack!_

Back into the fray. _Left, right, left, right. Dodge. Counter. Riposte._ It’s all a flurry of motions in your eye, a fevered dance of silver and steel. _Step one, two, twist and- slash! Step back, retreat. And…again!_

Your body settles into a rhythm and soon moves with practiced ease into each counter strike and slash. While it’s clear that wyvern face had the opening gambit, you’ve recovered decently enough to hold your own against them.

But it’s not enough. The two of you clash weapons again and then leap back. You take a second to swipe the sweaty bangs out of your eyes and grimace in frustration. It’s not enough. You still haven’t landed a real hit, and worse, you can feel your adrenaline starting to wear thin and your strength flagging. Wyvern face, on the other hand, looks comfortable enough to go another twenty bouts. You’re not sure if you can even last another ten.

You grit your teeth and try not to fume. All the attacks you know are practically useless against wyvern face. Whoever they are, they seem to have a grasp of your fighting style down to the point. Nothing works. Every one of your attacks has been countered or dodged with humiliatingly little effort. 

On the bright side though, wyvern face hasn’t gotten any hits on you. Which is bizarre, now that you think about it. You’re outclassed in every direction save for down, yet you’re holding out, somehow. You’re honestly surprised that you’ve managed to last this far. Your body is reacting quicker than you expected as if each slash and parry are instinctual on your part.

_Instinctual…_

Suddenly, it hits you and your eyes widen with the force of the realization. No way. There’s no freaking way it’s-

As if guessing your intention, Wyvern face strikes to your side, which you manage to parry in the nick of time. As your swords clash, you glance down at their feet.

There! That little tap with the right foot! You have that same tell!

At once, a plan forms in your mind and you back off from the clash, clutching your right shoulder as you suck in a painful breath in between your teeth. This is some grade A bad acting you’re putting on, but hopefully, it’ll be enough to lower wyvern face’s guard. 

Your next attack is slow and telegraphed as you pretend to be overcome with fatigue. Wyvern face barely flicks their sword in your direction to deflect it. 

_That’s right buddy. Let your guard down. Slowly, slowly. Don’t let them catch on. ___

__Each blow afterward is met with a labored gasp. Each slash, slower than the last. Hopefully, you’re not overplaying it, if the small, disappointed frown on wyvern face’s countenance is anything to go by._ _

__This is it. You let out what you hope is a frustrated growl and leap forward in the pretense of a reckless final charge. You raise your arm in an overhead slash._ _

__Wyvern face’s right foot twitches imperceptibly. Almost lazily, they lift their sword to deflect your attack._ _

__Quick as a bolt, you change directions, dropping down low as you twist your body around in a reverse slash. You have barely a second to hear wyvern face utter a surprised curse._ _

___Please hit!_ _ _

___Clang!!_ _ _

__A sword goes up in the air, twirling head over heels, before landing blade first into the ground in front of you._ _

__You breathe laboriously, grasping the sword in your hand with an iron grip. Wyvern face still has their arms raised up in an attempt to block, hands grasping at air._ _

__Silence for but a second._ _

__And then, surprisingly, cheering._ _

__“THAT WAS AWESOOOOOOOME!” You start in surprise. Cynthia, your Cynthia, has her hands cupped to her mouth as she stands on the fence, Kjelle next to her nodding approvingly. “Holy horse feathers! That.Was. AWESOME!”_ _

__Before you can retaliate, another pair of familiar voices pipes up._ _

__“Well done, Severa!”_ _

__“That’s my girl, nyaha!”_ _

__“Wha-!” You start in shock at the people gathered at the edge of the ring, the two of them positively beaming at you with pride. “Mom?! Dad?!”_ _

__Everyone is coming out of the woodworks today. All you need now is for her to show up._ _

__Suddenly, wyvern face throws back their head and barks out a laugh, high-pitched and feminine, completely at odds with her image and armor. The familiarity of it brings you back, and you can’t help the giddy grin that makes its way onto your face._ _

__“You brat!” Wyvern face says without any venom. “You tricked me!”_ _

__You laugh back at Wyvern face because gawds, it’s so good to hear that voice finally, that sarcastic tone again, after so long. Leave it to her to make an entrance like _this_. _ _

__“Hey, Aunt Selena.”_ _

__“Hey yourself!” Wyvern face takes off the helm, and you're greeted with your aunt’s familiar smirking face. Familiar, yet changed. Her hair is shorter, much shorter than you remember, cut into a stylish bob that frames her face nicely and when she marches up to you, wyvern helm tucked safely underneath her arm, there’s something lighter in her step. “And here I was thinking that you’d been slacking off on your training. Color me a foo-oof!”_ _

__The rest of her oath is cut off as you tackle her with a clumsy hug. You feel her shift her helm to her other arm to return your hug. “Easy there, squirt, easy,” she says with a chuckle, “Jeez, you gonna do this every time we have a moment now?”_ _

__“Definitely.”_ _

__“Gods help me then.” She steps back, arm on your shoulder and looks at you appraisingly. “Seriously though, have you gotten bigger? I swear you’ve shot up like a weed since the last time I saw you.”_ _

__“It’s good to see you too, Auntie,” you say honestly because she wouldn’t be your aunt without some backhanded compliment of hers that you’ve sorely missed. And you are excited to see her. Excited, surprised, giddy, happy, any more and you’d explode. “What about you, huh? With the new cut and all?”_ _

__“Oh you mean this? I dunno. I just thought it was time for a new look is all. The old one was getting to be a reaaaal drag if you know what I mean.” She fingers a lock and hesitates briefly before asking, “Does it look weird?”_ _

__“Are you kidding? It looks awesome! But more importantly, what are you doing here? Did you finish your mission? Is everything alright with the princess? Are you coming back home? For good?”_ _

__“Whoa, whoa, one at a time, one at a time,” she says, holding up a hand with an easy smile. “The answer to the first question is I’m filling in for a friend who couldn’t make it, hence the helm,” she taps the wyvern face, “and the other questions…” your aunt hesitates, biting her lip, “well...”_ _

__“SEVERA!”_ _

__Before she can continue, you’re buffeted forward, suddenly engulfed in a hug from behind. Your eyes widen as you’re surprised with another voice you didn’t think you’d hear that day._ _

__“Noire?!”_ _

__You hear your aunt inhale sharply._ _

__You feel yourself being lifted up from the waist by a pair of familiar arms and you let out a yelp in surprise. Noire readjusts you, and you find yourself face to face with a familiar ecstatic smile that you’ve missed so, so much. She’s even taller now; you’re sure when she puts you down, you’re only going to come up to her chin. The fay feather, your promise, is nestled safely in the simple circlet she’s wearing._ _

__“Severa!” she says again for no other apparent reason other than to say it gleefully. Noire twirls the two of you around in ecstatic circles and by the time she finishes, the two of you are laughing in giddy exhilaration._ _

__“Noire! Put- haha, put me d-down!”_ _

__Still giggling, she complies only to clasp your hand in hers, her face flushed from the excitement, and there’s an adoring glint in her eyes that warms you deep down from inside your core. “Severa, you were- I mean, I can’t even- that was just…just… you were amazing!”_ _

__She sounds like a little kid trying to fit all her thoughts into one sentence, and you have to chuckle at her sheer exuberance. “I’m more amazed at how you managed to sneak up on me! When did you get here?”_ _

__“Oh, your mom and dad wanted to surprise you! And they thought it’d be fun if I came along since we haven’t seen each other in forever.”_ _

__“So you saw all the floundering I did in the beginning then?” you joke. “Ugh, just erase all that from your memory right now.”_ _

__It’s supposed to be a joke, but Noire earnestly shakes her head. “No! Not at all! You were, just… amazing, Severa! Really! I mean, I don’t know anything about sword fighting or duels but just the- you know, it was just… beautiful…”_ _

__Heat rushes to your cheeks. Her last few words are uttered in a soft but no less adorably earnest voice and gawds, she can’t just say stuff like that because it’s just not fair!_ _

__Before you know it, you’re standing on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss to her lips._ _

__Noire immediately quiets. Vaguely, you can hear Cynthia cheering in the back and Kjelle clapping politely._ _

__When you step down, you just know your face is redder than a tomato and that everyone, including your parents, just saw what you did. But you don’t care. “Next time,” you whisper so that only she can hear, “you can just say that I did great.”_ _

__Noire nods slowly, looking a bit dazed. Dazed and very, very pleased. “Mhmm,” she hums, moving into hug you again. “You did great, Severa.”_ _

__“Dork,” you say, feeling yourself blush even further. You breathe in deep, soaking in her presence. You never noticed it before, but she has a scent about her, of warm cinnamon and pine. It’s soothing, familiar. It’s home._ _

__Noire suddenly lets out a little giggle. “Did you just smell me a bit?”_ _

__“No. Maybe…Yes.” The heat in your cheeks is definitely from embarrassment now, mortified at being caught in the act. “I missed you, okay?!”_ _

__Noire just smiles, that knowing smile of hers that lowers all your guards, and leans into your shoulder, slotting perfectly into place._ _

__“I missed you too,” she murmurs. And for that moment, it’s just the two of you in the world._ _

__Too soon, Noire moves away, still smiling softly. Then she looks behind you and starts. “Oh! Severa, who’s this?”_ _

__Oh shoot. You totally forgot about your aunt! “Right! Um, introductions!” You cough awkwardly. “Um, Noire this is my Aunt Selena. Aunt Selena this is Noire my… my girlfriend.”_ _

__Noire practically beams at you and you return it with a smaller smile. You pause, waiting for some sort of wry remark from your aunt. When none comes, you chance a peek up and start._ _

__Your aunt is staring, not at you, but right at Noire, like she’s seen a ghost from the past. Her mouth moves soundlessly, and you notice, her hand is hovering right above her heart, clenching and unclenching in spasms. Heart attack is the first thing that comes to your mind._ _

__“A-aunt Selena?” you cautiously ask. She’s deathly pale, paler than you’ve ever seen. “Are you-?”_ _

__Before you can get any further, Noire suddenly claps her hand. “Oh!” Her eyes light up in recognition, seemingly unaware of your aunt’s state. “Selena? You’re that Selena?”_ _

__At the mention of her name, your aunt starts. “You-,” she coughs and blinks twice, hard, as if dredging herself from a deep sleep. “No… I mean, y-yes. That’s- that’s me,” she says in a way that sounds oddly nervous and nothing like the confident aunt you fought just a minute ago. “I’m… Selena.”_ _

__If Noire notices how skittish your aunt is acting, she doesn’t point it out. Instead, she moves forward and takes her hand, shaking it with vigor, “I’ve heard so much about you!” she says, earnestly oblivious to how your aunt stiffens at the sudden contact. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person! Severa talks about you all the time.”_ _

__The statement seems to snap your aunt out of whatever funk she’s in. A ghost of a smirk flits over her face as she looks to you for confirmation. “Really? All the time? All nice things?”_ _

__Noire stops mid-shake. “Oh, er, umm…”_ _

__You roll your eyes and sidle up to Noire, who instantly retreats into your side. “Don’t tease my girlfriend, Auntie. She’ll totally burst into flames. And for the record, I only called you a smelly witch once.”_ _

__Aunt Selena gasps in mock indignation. “A witch? Hah, is that the best you could come up with?” She turns to Noire and whispers conspiratorially, loud enough that you can hear. “You hear that? That’s who you’re going to have to put up with for the rest of your days. I hope you’re prepared.”_ _

__“Hey, if I can put up with you for my childhood, my girlfriend can totally put up with me!”_ _

__“What did you say, squirt?”_ _

__“You heard me!”_ _

__Noire suddenly bursts into giggles. You and your aunt turn to regard her with surprise, both of you having temporarily forgotten her as you lapsed into the familiar banter with each other. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just…” she snickers again before continuing, “you two are really close, huh?”_ _

__“As if.” The two of you say at the same time, then proceed to glare at each other. Copycat._ _

__Noire bursts into a fresh round of giggles before moving closer to you. “Well, either way, thank you for the advice but,” here her expression turns adorably shy, “b-but I think we’ll be okay. I-if anything, Severa is the one who looks after me.”_ _

__Gawds. Just one silly statement and you can feel you heart trilling in your chest, ughh. Your girlfriend is turning you into a total sap._ _

__“Speak for yourself, dork,” you mumble, moving in closer. Noire blinks once and then smiles gratefully before interlacing your fingers together with hers._ _

__Your aunt smiles at the gesture, and the motion takes you aback. This smile… it’s different. Weary at the edges, but soft at the same time, tinged with a fondness that you’re not entirely sure if it’s directed at the two of you or someone else entirely._ _

__“Is something wro-?” you begin to ask, but then you make the mistake of shifting your weight, and suddenly, the dull throb in your right side suddenly intensifies. You take a deep breath and wince. Is that a bruise? You prod your ribs gently and okay! Bad idea. Definitely a bruise. “Owwowow that smarts.”_ _

__At your pained hiss, Noire straightens up, a switch suddenly flipped in her demeanor. “Let me see.” Noire quickly bustles to your side, hands poised just above your stomach and gestures, “Do you mind if I…?”_ _

__“Hm? Oh!” You exclaim, realizing what she’s talking about. “Is this the numbing curse you were talking about in your letters?” She may not have an aptitude for hexes, but as it turns out, Noire is surprisingly good with curses that aren’t geared towards hurting people. Her last letter to you she was detailing her apprenticeship with her mother and the intricacies of a numbing curse she had been working on._ _

__“Yep. I’ve worked out most of the kinks in it, and I have Mother’s approval.”_ _

__“Well if that’s the case,” you move your arms away, “go nuts.”_ _

__Noire smiles and takes a small paper charm with writing on it out of her pouch. She mutters a few words underneath her breath and then gingerly places a hand on your stomach. Instantly, cooling relief flows from her fingers and into your abdomen, dulling the soreness into a numb buzz._ _

__Actually… it may be just a little _too_ cold. “A-ah! T-that’s freezing!”_ _

__“Sorry.” Noire shrugs apologetically, keeping her hands in place. “Most of the kinks, but the cold thing is something I’ve been having trouble with.”_ _

__“Can I see that?” Your aunt appears by her side and takes the talisman from Noire’s hand and brings it close to her face. She mutters under her breath, reading the incantation off of it, occasionally emitting a small hmm. Noire looks to you, surprised._ _

__“You never told me your aunt could read old Plegian script!”_ _

__Before you can answer, your aunt hands the talisman back to her. “Here, you should change _cratch il tol lakt ven_ ,” she points to the middle of the talisman, “into _cratch il tol laktak von_. That should keep the hex from freezing anything it comes in contact with.”_ _

__Noire gawks even further, glancing down to make sure your aunt is correct. “You know how to cast hexes too?” The look in her eyes borders closely to awe. “Just what else can you do?”_ _

__Your aunt scratches her cheek with just a hint of embarrassed modesty. “It’s just something I picked up from- from an old friend of mine. She taught me a few things here and there.”_ _

__“I’ll say! She must’ve been very talented to think of something like that.”_ _

__And there’s that same smile again, just as elusive as the first and you would’ve missed if you weren’t paying attention. And just as quickly as it comes, it's gone, replaced with something akin to amusement. “She was, though she’d never admit it.” She pauses and looks upwards thoughtfully. “Actually, you remind me of her a lot.”_ _

__“O-oh, really?” Noire ducks her head, pleased at the compliment, and you nudge her lightly to look up, smiling encouragingly at her. “W-well, that's very kind of you of you to say. I hope I can become half the hex artist as your friend was.”_ _

__Your aunt raises her hand to her head in a casual salute. “Here, here. In the meantime, I think Henry or Cordelia might have a pencil on one of them. Why don’t you get that and I’ll change the lettering around on the talisman so that my niece doesn’t turn into a popsicle.”_ _

__Once Noire scampers off to find a pencil, your aunt crosses her arms and simply remarks, “She seems like a sweet girl.”_ _

__You glance at her from the corner of your eye, a little wary of her much too casual tone. A second later, your aunt breaks the nonchalant act and grins at you, so smug. If you still had your buckler you would have thrown it at her, half out of reflex, half out of second-hand embarrassment._ _

__“Sooo…” she draws out the word, obviously enjoying watching you squirm. “Girlfriend, huh?”_ _

__Maybe you can still dash over to your buckler and throw it at her before she notices… Nah, not worth it. You’ll just have to grin and bear it. “Noire, s-she’s, um, a f-friend. That’s a girl. Girlfriend. She’s my- you know- why are you laughing?!”_ _

__Your aunt has to wave her hand first, bent over in a fit of snickers. You do your best not to pout and settle on crossing your arms, which just seems to set off your aunt again._ _

__“S-sorry,” your aunt apologizes once her mirth seems to subside. “Wasn’t laughing at you just. Well, honestly you should’ve seen your face. You looked like you were having a meltdown there over a simple yes or no question.”_ _

__“Like you’d do any better,” you mutter, a bit mollified but still red in the face. “And it sounds a lot like you’re still laughing at me.”_ _

__“Yes or no, squirt.”_ _

__“Oh my gawds, yes, alright!” you throw up your hands, “anything else you want to ask?”_ _

__“Just one.” She stops laughing and looks you in the eye “How’d it happen?”_ _

__You open your mouth to give her the sarcastic answer. But then you pause._ _

__You could tell her that it happened suddenly, that you realized after a few weeks into your training camp, that out of everyone back home, you missed her the most._ _

__You could tell her that the one letter she wrote you, the one where she said she was studying to be a witch doctor so that she could heal you whenever you got hurt as a knight left you more pleased and embarrassed than you ever felt in your life and that you spent an inordinate amount of time staring back at her signature because maybe if you stared hard enough, you could imagine her right there at your side._ _

__Hell, you could even tell her that you were the one to admit your feelings first and that the ensuing week was literally hell as you waited for a reply, caught between berating yourself at how stupid you sounded and worrying yourself sick over her answer. That was one of your worst weeks. One of your worst and best weeks once you finally got a reply. And when you read it over it quickly turned into the best._ _

__You could tell her all that. But… Funnily enough, you have a feeling that your aunt already knows what it’s like._ _

__“It just sort of… happened,” you finally admit._ _

__And your aunt only looks to you and nods with a knowing smirk. “I figured.”_ _

__***_ _

__Cynthia the 2nd is arguing with the mage from earlier when the two of you make your way out of the duelist’s ring. Arguing might be too harsh a word for it. It’s more like Cynthia the 2nd gesturing wildly and speaking in an increasingly higher pitch as the mage frowns and rubs the bridge of his nose._ _

__“I’m not saying I disagree with you,” he says, keeping an even tone despite his tense posture, “but these are extenuating circumstances that the board might not necessarily be happy with.”_ _

__“Happy, schmappy. It’s a load of baloney is what it is. Severa won fair ‘n square!”_ _

__“While I find myself agreeing with your assessment, you must realize that the rest of the board will fail to see it that way.”_ _

__Aunt Selena cuts in between them before things can escalate. “Something wrong?”_ _

__The mage opens his mouth to answer but Cynthia the 2nd cuts in before he can say anything. “Laurent’s saying that Severa might not be allowed to pass because of some stupid technicality.”_ _

__“What?!” The last thing you want to hear after such a grueling duel is that you didn’t pass because of some minor thing. “What technicality?”_ _

__The mage sighs, long-suffering. “Simply put, nepotism.” At the blank stares the three of you give him, the mage sighs again. “The board is concerned that your… aunt might have held back during your duel to let you pass.”_ _

__Your aunt looks just as affronted as you feel and she doesn’t hesitate to add her indignation. “That’s stupid. Laurent, you of all people know that I never hold back, niece or not! I didn’t even know she’d be my opponent until she appeared in the ring!”_ _

__“I know,” the mage wearily rubs his eyes, “believe me, I know. Funny how fate works like that. But the board-!”_ _

__“Hang the board!”_ _

__“I wish,” Cynthia the 2nd mutters and the mage clucks his tongue disapprovingly. She rubs the back of her head and exhales noisily. “Buncha old fogeys with their stupid wigs, and powder and craphats.”_ _

__“Cravats.”_ _

__“That’s what I said.”_ _

__This is definitely not how you imagined your victory celebration going on. In your mind, there was a lot more fanfare and as you basked in the glory. And seeing it potentially going up all in smoke well… you frown darkly. Heads are GONNA roll._ _

__Your aunt pinches the bridge of her nose, apparently mimicking your displeasure. “Fine. What are options?”_ _

__The mage grimaces as he answers. “We could appeal the case.”_ _

__Cynthia the 2nd rolls her eyes. “By the time that happens, we’ll all be retired. Severa’d have a better chance winning a duel against me right now!”_ _

__So it’s looking pretty hopeless for you right now. As the three of them continue arguing, though, something Cynthia said sticks to you. Before you know it, you’re opening your mouth and asking:_ _

__“Can I?”_ _

__The words come out of your mouth before you realize it. Cynthia the 2nd and the mage turn to you, confused. “Can you what?” asks Cynthia the 2nd_ _

__Only your aunt nods in understanding. “She wants to fight again. Prove that it wasn’t a fluke.”_ _

__“Wait, you mean, against me?” Cynthia the 2nd points to herself. “Right now?”_ _

__“You said it yourself. I’d have a better chance of fighting you than appealing the case.”_ _

__Of course, you’re hardly in any shape to be making any claims right now. Your arms are feeling worryingly watery at the moment, and the bruise on your stomach is still there, throbbing faintly as an ominous reminder._ _

__But hey! If you can disarm your aunt, then today must just be a day for miracles._ _

__The mage nods slowly, seeming to agree with the plan. “That…might actually be good enough for the board.”_ _

__Cynthia the 2nd does a double take. “Wait, are you serious? You’ve seen how Severa fights! She doesn’t have to prove anything to those old fogeys.”_ _

__Your aunt snorts. “This isn’t about proving anything,” she says, reading your mind. She drapes an arm across your shoulder and shoots you a smug smirk and wink. “This is just to show you that my niece can kick your butt.”_ _

__“And then some,” you add, and your aunt looks to you with so much pride in her eyes that you can’t help but grin back._ _

__Cynthia the 2nd is silent for a second longer and then she bursts out laughing. “Aww, what the heck! No harm in trying I guess. Besides,” she grins at your aunt, a sly grin, “I’ve always wanted to see which one of us was the better one.”_ _

__She picks up her lance with a twirl and using it as a vault, leaps into the ring with a somersault in midair that has your Cynthia clapping excitedly. “Laurent!” she calls behind her. “Be the judge!”_ _

__“Certainly!” He claps his hands together. “Everyone who is not a combatant, please exit stage left! Another duel is about to take place!”_ _

__Your parents, Cynthia and Kjelle quickly comply, an excited chattering breaking out between them as they bet to see who will win. Noire rushes over to you to give you a quick peck on the cheek- “f-for luck”- before she joins the rest on the sidelines._ _

__You draw your sword, bouncing on the balls of your feet as the familiar anticipation builds in your stomach. This time is different though, the dread long gone. All you can feel is the excitement pumping through your veins, racing through your heart. Across from you, Cynthia the 2nd stretches out her arms, the same anticipation coloring her movements._ _

__“Severa, break a leg!” Mom calls out encouragingly._ _

__“Or hers. Preferably,” your aunt adds._ _

__“Selena!”_ _

__“What? I said preferably!”_ _

__“That is NOT how we show encouragement in this family. Henry, tell her!”_ _

__“AIM FOR THE BACK OF THE KNEES, NYAHAHA!”_ _

__“Henry!”_ _

__“Yeah, you tell her D-Henry!”_ _

__“Selena Highmoon do not encourage him!”_ _

__The mage seems overcome by a sudden coughing fit and Cynthia the 2nd can barely keep a straight face as she raises her lance in front of her. “Nice family you got there,” she remarks with a grin._ _

__You smirk back at her and raise your sword._ _

__“The very best.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will be posted maaaaaybe next Tuesday for FE Femslash week. Maybe. Hopefully


	8. Afterwards

You’re a little out of breath when you make it to the top of the hill. It’s a bit embarrassing how such a small climb has you winded like this but thankfully, nobody is there to witness you huffing and puffing except for the setting sun and the old oak gnarled with age. Severa elected to wait for you at the bottom of the hill with her pegasus instead of making the climb with you. Thank Naga for that. You love the scamp to death and all, but she would be utterly merciless with her teasing if she saw you now. You’re not old, dang it!

“Hey.” You sit yourself down at the base of the oak, right in front of the stone marker nestled comfortably in its trunk. The wording has faded with age and the weather, but if you squint, you can make out the name carved into the stone, a name that’s as familiar to you as the back of your hand. 

“Sorry I’m late. I’ve been busy as all hell lately.”

You pause. You always have trouble figuring out what to say when it’s just the two of you. There’s just so much to tell her, and it’s hard figuring out where to start. 

A warm summer breeze plays gently across your face, tickling your nose and ruffling your hair. In the distance, you can hear Severa cooing softly to her pegasus.

“And before you ask, no, I wasn’t moping away.” You roll your eyes fondly and make yourself more comfortable- well, as comfortable as you can sitting on the ground. You thought about bringing a stool but quickly canned that idea since that would definitely have Severa making fun of you and your old bones. 

“I really have been busy. Between mercenary work and the academy, I’ve barely got any time to myself. Laurent and Cynthia think that I can live entirely off a teacher’s pension.” You snort. “As if.” 

The warm breeze passes through the branches, and you take a second to close your eyes and listen to the sound of the leaves as they go _shh, shh_ before settling again. The setting sun casts its light in long, solemn rays across your skin, whispers of warmth just ghosting by. 

_Shh, shh_

You open your eyes and smile.

“So. What do you want to hear first?”

*** 

_The Shepard’s garrison is the last place in all of Ylisse you’d think would be an appropriate place to host a party. It’s been turned into a bar of sorts after the war, but even so, there’s still a lingering scent of sweat in the air and odd nicks in the stone wall that no amount of polish can completely cover up. But Cynthia was insistent on the venue and her miniature had vehemently agreed, outright refusing to host the five-year anniversary of the Justice Riders anywhere else but the garrison._

_Justice Riders. Even now, the ridiculous name the three of them came up with has you shaking your head ruefully as you make your way through all the revelry going about you. Cynthia think’s it’s an awesome name, obviously. And it does have the added benefit of being easily memorable. There’s not a kid in all of Ylisse who doesn’t recognize the Justice Rider's colors or the riders themselves. You just can’t believe how such a name made it past the board. Or Severa._

_Pft, who are you kidding? She loves the name, the dork._

_Speaking of which, just where is the squirt anyways? Usually, you can find her with the other Justice Riders, but the table with Kjelle and Cynthia strangely lacks her presence._

_As you weave past the clamor and the hubbub of the crowd, neatly sidestepping a group of tipsy trainees, you finally spy Severa sitting by herself at a table in the corner. She’s nursing a mug and a scowl and a familiar, rugged looking sketchbook that’s seen much love and better days is open in front of her._

_Huh. It’s not like her to miss out on the festivities, especially one that’s centered around the Justice Riders. You would know. In fact, she’s so out of it that you’re actually sitting down in front of her when she finally notices you, and she starts with a curse._

_“Horse feathers! Drown me in a sack, Aunt Selena! When did you get here?”_

_You can’t help the small smile that pops up when she calls you by your other name. At this point, she does it half out of habit, half out of respect. She’s not stupid; by now, she knows your real name and who you really are. The physical similarities between the two of you are a good enough tell as it is, not to mention the tall tales that have sprung up ever since Grima’s defeat. But she insists on calling you Aunt, and you really don’t mind. Severa is her name now, just like how Selena is yours. Their names you’ve both earned._

_“Hey there, squirt.”_

_Severa’s lips twitch at the nickname, the only warning you get, and she surprises you with a hug. You return it after a second with a chuckle and wry shake of your head. Even after the 23 years you’ve known each other, you’re still caught off guard to how open she is compared to you. Maybe it has something to do with her upbringing, or maybe it’s just the way she is. Well, heck, you’re not complaining._

_Once she pulls away, Severa gives you a quick once over. “You look good Aunt Selena,” she says and then nods decisively as if satisfied with what she sees. “Lighter, if that makes any sense.”_

_“Are you saying that I was fat before?”_

_“Maybe. Maybe not. By the way, is that gray I see in your hair?”_

_“What, no.” You run a hand self-consciously through it. “It’s dust!”_

_She snickers and you drop your hand with a scowl at her antics. “Kidding. It’s good to see you haven’t changed auntie.”_

_You take the ribbing with an exaggerated sigh and shake your head, half exasperated, half amused. “You are so getting coal from me this Yuletide.” She snickers some more and lifts her mug to you in mock salute. “This is the kind of greeting I get after all this time?”_

_“Says the person who thinks an appropriate greeting after a year apart is to hide her identity and fight her niece in a duel without any warning.”_

_“Touche,” you concede, and the two of you share matching smirks. “Though in my defense, I didn’t know it was going to be you until you showed up. But forget that.” You jerk a thumb back to the center of the pub. “What are you doing all the way over here? Party’s over there, in case you’ve forgotten.”_

_At the mention of the party, the smirk falls off her face and back into the scowl she was wearing earlier. She turns away and shrugs indifferently- or what she thinks is indifferent, but acting has never been a strong suit for either of you, so it comes off more huff-puff than stoic._

_“Psh, you can barely call this little get together a party.” She turns back to her notebook and flips a few pages forward. “It’s more like the family friendly version minus all the fun stuff. Honestly, I’m only here because Noire wanted to go.”_

_You have to raise your eyebrow because that’s a bald faced lie if you ever heard one. You know from Cynthia’s gossiping that Severa loves these anniversary celebrations more than anything, even shopping (which is a sin, hello, nothing beats a shopping spree! But you also love her so you can forgive her too). She plans weeks ahead of time what to wear, what to bring, and generally drives everyone else up the wall with her micromanaging._

_The way she’s acting now is the same way you act when you have something else on your mind, scowls and deflections and all that. Whatever it is though, you haven’t a clue, and you’d have an easier time forcing Cynthia to give up on heroic posing than convincing her to spill the beans._

_So instead, you drop the subject and try a different approach. “Then how about dancing? Everyone else is dancing.”_

_She shoots you a look that can only be described as, ‘really’? “I don’t dance.”_

_Right on cue, a blur comes bounding out of the crowd and lands next to Severa._

_“Selena!” Noire gives you an excited hug when she sees you, a cheerful flush in her cheeks and a thrilled glint in her eyes. She’s dressed in a pretty green gown, and you notice out of the corner of your eye how quickly Severa cheers up at the sight of her, the scowl on her face cracking back into a smile. “I’m so glad you could make it! How are you? Oh!” She claps her hands, suddenly remembering something. “Before that, how did the charm work for you?”_

_You lift up your sword so that she can see it, rattling the small talisman attached to the hilt. “Works like a song. Thanks again for it.”_

_“Of course!” She nods enthusiastically, the fay feather in her circlet bobbing precariously with the motion and you wonder if she’s tipsy or just drunk off the atmosphere. Before you can ask, she turns her attention to her partner, lighting up even further, if possible. “Severa!” she places a hand over hers and tugs and the smile that follows on Severa’s face is definitely involuntary. “Come dance with me!”_

_Severa looks away, still smiling. “Oh, I don’t know…”_

_“Please?” Noire asks with an earnest look that has the combined emotional impact of ten puppies all begging for a treat and oh yeah, Severa’s definitely a goner._

_“Oh all right,” she concedes and fondly rolls her eyes when Noire cheers. “But later. I need to finish up these designs, but I’ll save a dance for you before the night is over.”_

_“Promise?”_

_Severa raises their intertwined hands to her lips. “Promise.”_

_“I’ll hold you to that!” With that, she gets up to join Inigo and Cynthia shamble on the dance floor. Severa watches her go with a fond smile. Then she catches the sight of your raised eyebrows and smug grin._

_“Oh shut up.” She rolls her eyes and tosses the sketchbook at you. You catch it easily enough and flip over to the designs she was talking about, smirk still in place as you peruse the drawings. Oh wow. Some of these are pretty good. One armor design also looks eerily similar to the one you wore in your time away._

_“Cynthia still wants to use your armor designs for the Justice Riders?” you ask as you continue browsing her works._

_“Yeah. She’s been harping on me for the past few weeks to hurry it up so that we can get estimates for costs before the end of the year.”_

_“Mhm. And what did you tell her?”_

_“That she can either wait a little longer for the perfect armor design or she can go around fighting ‘the forces of evil,’” Severa makes sarcastic air quotes, “in a burlap sack dressed like a hayseed. Her choice.”_

_“Atta girl,” you say proudly, and Severa preens a bit at the compliment._

_You turn the page over, idly perusing the other drawings as she goes back to fiddling listlessly with her mug. There are some more armor designs, a few crossed out with large frustrated X's, a couple circled. What else, what else… You notice that a few of the sketches are of people. You see her father in one, her mother in another, one of the Justice Riders posed together, quite a bit of Noire with various candid expressions on her face and-_

_Huh. You frown and bring the book closer to your face. You don’t recognize the boy and girl drawn on the last page of the book, but there’s just something about them that has you pausing in consideration. They look maddeningly familiar… But you have no idea why. You clear your throat to get her attention and ask, “Who are the kids?”_

_Severa glances up from her drink. And then promptly sprays it all over the table._

_Okay then. Not what you were expecting._

_“Oh my gawdsssss.” Severa wipes at her chin and dives for the book. “You weren’t supposed to see that!” she hisses._

_“I’m hurt,” you say dryly, darting backward and she overshoots, hitting her hand awkwardly against the bench. You try not to smirk at the pained swearing that ensues. “After all we’ve been through?”_

_“Oh so sorry," she bites back, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Let me rephrase: NOBODY was supposed to see that picture, least of all you!”_

_“Oh, well that makes it all better. Not. I’m touched that you thought of me specifically though. Touched.”_

_“Great then you can give it BACK!” You scoot further back, and she makes another desperate swipe. “GiveitbackgiveitbackrightNOW!”_

_“Uh, no.” You easily duck another swipe. “Not until you tell me just who the children are in the pic.”_

_“Nobody! They’re-,” she growls and makes another unsuccessful pass, “absolutely nobody, gawds!”_

_“Uh huh. You’re not planning on committing a kidnapping anytime soon, are you?”_

_“Okay, one, don’t be an idiot and two, you can’t kidnap people that don’t even exist!”_

_That gets you to stop moving. “What?”_

_Severa snatches the book back, her face scrunched up in embarrassment. “I said, you can’t kidnap them because they don’t exist!”_

_You blink a few times, attempting to parse the meaning of her sentence. “Sooo… you’re saying…”_

_“Do I have to spell it out for you? They’re not real! I made them up, alright?!”_

_The pitch of her voice turns even higher at the end of her sentence and if not for the band playing in the center of the pub, you’re sure a few heads would’ve turned at the outburst. But nobody notices, and you’re the only one who gapes dumbly at Severa, who is steadily turning redder and redder under your gaze._

_There’s an awkward pause between the two of you. Severa is the one to break it first._

_“I suppose now you’re going to ask me just why on Naga’s good earth I have that drawing in my sketchbook in the first place,” she says, tone defensive and gaze evasive. How many times have you seen that before?_

_Well… you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. But…_

_“Only if you feel comfortable sharing.”_

_At your assurance, Severa’s shoulders relax a fraction, though her expression is conflicted. She opens her mouth a few times before finally letting out a resigned sigh._

_“You'd find out sooner or later…” She sighs again and turns to you. “What I tell you, you can’t breathe a word to anyone else, got it?”_

_“Of course.”_

_“I mean it! You can’t tell anyone. Not even Noire.”_

_Now that surprises you because one, Severa never keeps secrets from her girlfriend unless they’re utterly humiliating secrets and two, lying to Noire is like trying to lie to a puppy, and you’ll just feel like a jerk. But hey, you promised, so you stick out your pinky and say, “sister swear.”_

_The last of the tension seeps out of her shoulders, and she gratefully links pinkies with you. “Thanks.” She takes a second to compose herself and lets out an aggravated puff of air. “Gawds, I can’t believe I’m about to admit to this.” She takes the book and flips it to the page with the kids. “First off, who do they look like to you?”_

_You peer down again at the picture and take in as much as you can, like the posture of the girl, a hand cocked on her hip and a scowl on her face as the boy hangs a little behind her, slightly hunched over and a nervous look in his eyes. And damn, if it’s not on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t place a finger on it!_

_“I don’t know,” you finally admit after a minute of silence. “Long lost cousins of ours, maybe?”_

_Severa grunts. “Close,” she says and then mutters something beneath her breath that you can’t quite make out._

_“Say again?”_

_Severa groans. “They’re-what-I-think-my-children-would-look-like-okay?!”_

_You blink. “Oh.” And then your brain makes the connection to what she said and- “wait, they’re **WHAT?!** ”_

_“Shhh!!” Severa motions furiously at you, her face once again a frantic red. “A little louder, why don’t you? I think there’s a deaf mage in Plegia who didn’t hear you!”_

_“Yeah, okay. Right. Sorry.” The apology is more an automatic response. Right now, you can barely string a coherent sentence together with how caught off guard you are. Children? CHILDREN? And just like that, your brain shuts down. Again. “Right, sorry.”_

_Severa huffs, but she seems slightly mollified by your apology, though her entire face is still redder than her mother’s hair. You scratch the back of your head and feel the heat rising from your neck. What do you say after something like that?_

_“So um…” you tap the picture and ask, “they’re… you know. You and Noire’s…?”_

_Your question elicits the most scathing look ever from Severa, and you immediately feel like an idiot for asking such a stupid question. “No actually, they’re the imaginary love children I conceived between me and Inigo, gawds, OF COURSE ME AND NOIRE, WHO ELSE?!”_

_“Alright, sorry, stupid question! No need to yell my ear off!”_

_Severa groans, changing moods faster thank you can keep up. “I can’t believe you made me say the words Inigo and love children in the same damn sentence. Gawds, you must think I’m crazy.”_

_“What? No!” She stares disbelievingly back at you, and you backtrack. “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s not that crazy. I mean,” you laugh, “it’s not like you’re thinking of asking her to marry you, right? Now that’d be crazy nuts!”_

_There’s a disquieting silence from Severa’s end. You stop laughing immediately._

_“Oh my gods.”_

_Severa groans again at your oath and drops her onto the table with a meaty thud. “Just kill me now. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it now, oh my gawdsssssssss.”_

_All you can do is stare dumbly back at her. This time, you’re completely out of words to say. What can you say? Even now, after the years and all the trials the two of you have been through, you’re still surprised at just how different the two of you are._

_Well… maybe not that different._

_The party has winded down somewhat, but there are still a few pockets of people enjoying themselves on the floor with varying amounts of energy in their step. In the center, you can see Noire, clapping and laughing freely, as Owain and Laurent trip over themselves in an attempt at dancing._

_Memories of a similar dance and that same free laughter come flowing into your mind, like a warm summer breeze. You remember a time when you shared similar feelings as Severa, just as strong, just as real._

_And you realize she’s not crazy. She’s just stupid. Stupid in love._

_With a sigh, you take off your gloves. “Severa, look at me.”_

_Severa grudgingly lifts her head from the table, a scowl on her lips and scathing remark on her tongue. The remark dies when she sees your hand outstretched in front of her, your tarnished silver ring in the palm of your hand. **Her ring.**_

_“What are you-?”_

_“Quiet,” you cut her off, and she quickly clamps her mouth shut, eyes wide in anticipation. “If it were anyone else, I’d be a responsible adult and say something silly, like… I dunno, you’re too young, or you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, blah, blah, blah.”_

_You pause and take a deep breath. “But you’re your own person, and I trust you, and your feelings. You wouldn’t consider something like this unless you really, really meant it. And I see the way you two look at each other. It’s like…like…” you trail off._

_“Like we’ve been a part of each other, in this life and another,” Severa finishes quietly, as if to herself, and you feel your heart stop for a beat because even though it’s been so long, it still just hurts at moments like this._

_As if realizing she said it out loud, Severa flushes and coughs into her hand. “I-I mean,” she stammers, “o-or something.”_

_And now you can breathe again. “Or something,” you quietly agree. “Just… promise me one thing.”_

_“What?”_

_The ring feels so heavy in your hands. “If… and I’m saying if. Huge, gigantic if. If you have to say your goodbyes one day,” you hold up your hand as she starts to protest. “If you have to say your goodbyes one day… promise me you won’t regret the memories you could’ve made.” There’s a hitch in your voice, and you clear you throat to get rid of it. “Instead, remember the memories you already have. Keep going, for both your sakes.”_

_In your mind’s eye, you feel a warm hand on your arm, a laugh and a smile. That same hand slowly turns pale, bloodless in your pleading grasp, slowly slipping away. Don’t go. Please. Don’t leave me._

_“I promise.”_

_You snap out of the memory with a jolt. Severa stares straight back at you, gazing so intently that she has to be looking at your soul. The earlier embarrassment from the night is gone, replaced only with a solemn conviction._

_“I promise,” she says again, sticking out her hand and you believe her. How can you not? You know that look in her eyes, the same one that says I understand. “I promise that if anything happens, that I’ll keep going and live, for both our sakes.”_

_Not so different after all._

_You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, and the hurt earlier seems to lessen into something bearable. “That’s all I need to know,” you whisper, and your hand turns over, and the ring falls from your hand, straight into hers._

_There’s no fanfare when you let it go, no sudden explosion of feeling or weighty revelation. But the weight in your heart suddenly lightens. With a pop, the sounds of the ongoing party come rushing back. You suddenly feel like laughing, and you do once you catch a look at the stunned expression on Severa’s face as she stares at the ring in her hand._

_“Relax, squirt, you look like you’re about to have a stroke,” you sling an arm around her shoulder, and it’s a testament to how out she is that she doesn’t even bother to break away. “Maybe I should call Libra to check if you still have a pulse,” you joke._

_“That’s…probably a good idea,” she says faintly._

_“Ha!” You snicker but then stop when there’s no reaction from her. “Wait, you’re not seriously having a stroke are you?”_

_“What? No, don’t be stupid,” she gets up from the table, still looking distractedly at a point past your shoulder. “I just need you to call the priest.” Before you can ask her what for, she adds, “because I think I’m about to do something very, very crazy.”_

_“What do you mean craz-,” and then you stop dead in your tracks as it hits you. Your jaw drops. For the second time that night, your brain shuts down. “Now?!” you hiss in disbelief. “You’re going to do this now?!”_

_“You gave me the ring, didn’t you?”_

_“Well, yeah, but I meant it for when the time is right or something!”_

_Severa runs a hand distractedly, nervously through her hair. “No time like the present,” is her glib response, which is hardly comforting. “No time like now.”_

_“Now hold on-!” you start to say, lifting a hand to stop her. But then you pause. You can tell she’s not listening to you, her focus entirely on the middle of the room._

_And what can you say? You said you trusted her, and you'd be a hypocrite to try and talk her out of it. And it's not like you haven't felt the same way before. Even now, you can remember that same nervousness, that dizzying rush of hope and anticipation that led you to a similar decision. The same decision she’s going to make._

_“Oh what the hell.” You let your hand fall. You can’t believe you’re about to let this happen. You’re a terrible adult. “I’ll get Libra.”_

_Severa nods once, gratefully, and begins to move away. You stop her. “Wait a sec.” You take out your handkerchief and wipe her face with it, and then you adjust her shirt collar, smoothing out the creases. This is what you’re supposed to do… right? Honestly, you have no idea what you’re doing other than it seems like the right thing to do at the moment…Maybe._

_Severa seems to come to the same conclusion, looking at you strangely as you fuss. “What are you doing?”_

_“I dunno. Being a good aunt, I dunno. Shut up.” You give her collar one last smooth and then move to her hair, sweeping the bangs to the side. She could use a haircut, but there’s no time. You’re just going to have to do the best you can with what you have._

_“When you ask her, make sure to look her in the eye. Don’t stutter, don’t repeat yourself, don’t blink and for the love of the gods, don’t drop the ring because I will skin you if you do. But I promise to skin you after she says yes so you can at least pass on to the next life happy.”_

_Severa rolls her eyes, but the empty threat seems to bring back some of her old sardonic manners because she remarks back, “Don’t worry. I’m not you, remember?”_

_“Oh shut it.” You tap her on the shoulder and then shove her forward, an exasperated smirk playing on your lips. “And good luck, squirt.”_

_She stumbles forward, rights herself, and waves back to you without looking, her gaze focused entirely in front of her on the dance floor._

_Without warning, she cuts in between Noire and Laurent and she picks the archer up by the waist, twirling with the momentum. Noire shrieks, first in surprise, then in delight as the two dissolve into excited laughter while the mage steps back with a good-natured smile._

_Somebody in the back plays out a note on the fiddle, and the band begins a new song, this one slower and deeper. Severa sets her down, and the two begin a slow twirl, arms encircled around each other’s waist. Noire leans down, touches their foreheads together and whispers something only Severa can hear in her ear. She simply smiles in response, one of the most serenely content smiles you’ve ever seen her make._

_With a soft smile of your own, you get up from the table and make your way over to the exit. There’s no need for you to stay because you know how it’s going to play out. Besides, Severa will chew your ear out if Libra’s not here to witness everything._

_Just as you reach the door, a surprised gasp comes from the crowd behind you and well, maybe you can’t stop yourself from taking just a tiny peek back._

_Severa is on her knees with her hand outstretched, and the look on her face is torn between hopeful and absolutely petrified. Noire stands just a fraction away, hands cupped over her mouth, eyes wide, staring wordlessly at the ring in the palm of Severa's hand. She doesn’t make a sound, not even a squeak; she only nods furiously, over and over again, tears streaming from her eyes and with that, Severa’s expression melts into an ecstatic grin that’s wide enough to split her face into two. Noire sniffles and laughs, all at the same time, and then throws her arms around her. The two of them go tumbling head over heels to the ecstatic cheers and whooping of the crowd._

_You turn away, the soft smile still on your face, and close the door behind you._

*** 

“And then, get this, she ended up buying everyone a round plus extra!” you snicker, as you remember what happened after. “You should’ve seen the look on her face when she got the bill! It was all-!” You try to think of a word but for some reason, you’re drawing a blank at the moment, so you just gesture with your hand. She knows what you mean. 

“Oh and uh, sorry for giving away your Mom’s ring without asking you first. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing, you know? But…”

You place a hand on the worn marker, slowly tracing the faded letters, and smirk. “I think, if you were there, you would have done the same thing. Am I right?”

There’s no answer, save for the setting sun on your back. There’s still enough light that you can feel its lingering warmth on the stone marker. You look away for a second, watching it sink lower into the horizon, and the smile slowly fades from your lips.

“You should’ve been there.”

A sudden cool gust of wind blows past you and ruffles your hair in silent admonishment. The leaves on the tree rustle disapprovingly. 

“Okay, okay! I get it, no moping,” you huff, straightening your hair back into place. “See? No frowns.”

The gust tapers down into a light breeze.

“So then, what else do you want to know. Hmmm… Oh!”

“The wedding!”

*** 

_Despite the wedding being at least another few hours away, Severa already looks about ready to cry. Whether they’re tears of happiness or frustration well, you’ll have to wait and see._

_“No, no, no! Listen here, soup for brains!” She jabs a menacing finger in the terrified messenger boy’s face, looking absolutely intimidating even in her white and green wedding dress that’s fit for royalty. “I don’t care if they’re long lost cousins how many times removed, if they didn’t get an invitation, they’re not allowed in. Secondly, get rid of the piñata because if Noire didn’t order it, I didn’t order it, then NOBODY ordered it, and the last thing we need is Cynthia or Owain to get their hands on it. And lastly, where in the blue hell are my slippers because if I have to wear these heels for a second more, I will make you EAT THEM!”_

_Definitely the latter then._

_“You should probably go,” you cut in edgewise, when Severa pauses for breath, and the messenger boy doesn’t even need to be told twice. After his afterimage fades, you turn back to Severa, who is still fuming like a smokestack. Seriously. You can practically see the steam pouring out of her ears. “Congratulations,” you say dryly, “I think you just made a grown man cry.”_

_Severa snaps her glare to you and snorts derisively. “Hmph! As if it’s my fault the caterers are incompetent! It’s obvious; if I say be here at noon, they should be here half an hour before then! And don’t even get me started on the interior decorators!”_

_“Severa.”_

_“What!”_

_“Severa,” you say again, this time injecting a bit of your mother into your voice. It has the desired effect. Severa glares at your for a second longer before visibly deflating, shoulder’s slumping over._

_“Maybe I overreacted a bit,” she admits quietly._

_“Maybe,” you concede, gesturing for her to sit down at the vanity. You pick up the brush and take a handful of her hair and begin smoothing out the edges. It’s getting long, but the white sheen she inherited from Henry lends a shimmery quality to it that goes nicely with her bridal veil, so the length stays. Severa hums contentedly as you brush. “Still though, that was a pretty nasty tongue lashing for someone who just came to tell you that the quiches are done.”_

_Severa groans in embarrassment. “That’s what he said? Gawds, all I heard was something about Cynthia and Owain and pinatas.”_

_“Yeah, that was him telling you that they wanted to stuff the piñata full of quiches since they ran out of candy like, an hour ago.”_

_Severa groans again, and you pause in your brushing to pat her consolingly on the shoulder. “Chin up, squirt. Compared to how they usually act, this is like a walk in the park.”_

_“I know that!” Severa snaps, though not at you. If anything, she seems more frustrated at herself than anybody else. “I know that these things happen, and I’m used to dealing with them! I know how to deal with them!”_

_“But…?”_

_“But…” Severa works her mouth for a few seconds, and when no words come forth, she gives up and slumps in the chair. “I don’t know,” she concedes quietly, “maybe it’s just everything coming together at this moment and all the crazy stuff that’s lead up to it.”_

_You remain quiet and continue to brush her hair. After a moment, Severa sighs._

_“I just want today to go perfectly.”_

_You snort before you can stop yourself. “Don’t worry so much.” You smirk at the incredibly disbelieving look she gives you in the mirror. “If there’s anything I learned about my own life, it’s that nothing is ever perfect, and it won’t do you any good to pull your hair out over it.”_

_“Really,” she turns around to look at you, half disbelieving, half amused, “nothing is perfect? Not even you?”_

_You snort again; glad to see that she’s back to her usual, sarcastic self. “Watch it, squirt. Thing’s may not be perfect, but they can come pretty damn close to it. Like today for instance.”_

_Severa tilts her head, looking genuinely curious as she takes in your statement. “What makes you say that?”_

_You wink at her. “I just do.” You put down the brush, and the two of you admire your handiwork in the mirror. A picture perfect job if you say so yourself and judging by the pleasantly surprised look on Severa’s face, she seems to agree. “Take it from someone who knows._

_There’s a knock at the door, and Cordelia sticks her head in, looking harried though the expression softens into a pleased smile when she sees the two of you. “Ah, I thought you’d be here, Selena. They need your help in the other bride’s room. Some sort of situation involving an explosion and a piñata filled with quiches, I believe?”_

_You roll your eyes. Of course the dork squad would manage to turn something so silly into something so catastrophic. Of course. “I’m on my way,” you hand the brush over to Cordelia, before turning to address Severa. “Think you can hold it together while I’m gone?”_

_She sniffs haughtily and crosses her arms. “I’ve been doing fine so far, haven’t I?” she says, smirking back at you._

_“Atta girl.”_

_On your way to Noire’s room, you’re hampered at least a dozen times by various people coming and going in your path. In the main foyer of the church, Henry directs helpers to different locations, cackling delightedly when he spots you, and you return it with a quick wave and a smile. In a corner near the altar, Cynthia paces nervously back and forth while Kjelle, looking slightly put out at being forced into a dress, stares stonily at the wall, practicing her bridesmaid speech under her breath._

_Soon, you reach the quiet hall where Noire is. Just outside her doors are a man and a woman, their backs turned to you, waiting patiently._

_“I’m here, what’s the prob-” is what you start to say. But then it dies out when they turn towards you and you stop dead in your tracks._

_It’s them. **It’s them.**_

_Her mother regards you coolly, without a trace of any sort of expression on her face. She doesn’t seem surprised to see you and you wonder if she somehow set this up, to catch you when you were least expecting it. If that’s the case, it’s working, judging by the cold churning in your stomach. Gods. You haven’t seen the two of them since…_

_Since the funeral._

_Her mother hadn’t said a word or uttered any sort of cry of anguish. She only held onto her husband’s hand as she watched their child being slowly set down into the earth. She was shaking, tears streaming furiously from her eyes but no sound escaped her lips._

_You should have gone over to them, said something, anything. But you couldn’t. It all felt empty to you right then. It was your fault. If you were smarter or stronger or a better person, she’d still be alive. It’s your fault, your fault, all your-_

_Her father suddenly clears his throat, and you try not to jump a mile at the noise. If he notices, he doesn’t make any comment. Instead, he sticks his hand out._

_“It’s… Selena now. Correct?”_

_The fact that he willingly offers his hand out to you surprises you more than anything. “R-right.” Gingerly, you take his hand and shake. Any minute now, he’ll drop it, drop the act. He’ll curse you, scream at you, ask you why you couldn’t have saved her, saved their daughter._

_He doesn’t. Your surprise turns into shock as he actually shakes it back and smiles at you. An actual smile. You try not to gape._

_“I see. It’s been too long. Far too long.” He lets go but the smile is still there and just as genuine and fond. “Glad to see you’re looking well.”_

_“I- thanks,” you mumble, not sure if he’s simply being polite or if he actually means it. “You too.” There are more wrinkles in the corner of his face than you remember and the gray flecks in her hair are more prominent than the last time you saw. But overall, they look…peaceful. Well, he does at least. She hasn’t stopped staring, and it’s impossible to gauge her feelings with that blank expression._

_The feeling in your stomach is still there, and you can feel it creeping into the rest of your body, choking you. You briefly debate making a run for it, but you quickly quash that idea because running isn't what you do. Not anymore._

_“Is Noire inside?" you ask after an awkward pause. "Mo-Cordelia said there was some sort of situation.”_

_“Ah yes,” for some reason, he looks uncomfortable, “actually…”_

_“That was a lie,” she finally speaks up, and it takes all your courage not to jump out of your skin when she addresses you. “There is no situation.”_

_The panic leaps into your throat, but you master it with a breath. No running away. It takes a few seconds, but when you feel a little more grounded, you’re feeling brave enough to keep speaking. “Then why-?”_

_She tilts her head and replies, “We thought,” she begins then pauses. “We thought you’d like to spend some time alone with her. One more time.”_

_It hits you then, and your eyes widen in shock as the implications of what she said set in. No. That’s impossible. Some wounds stay open even after time; you’re sure of it. It’s not so simple as letting them heal by themselves._

_“I-I don’t,” you stammer, not even sure what you’re trying to say. She simply stares back at you, dark hooded eyes unreadable._

_Words, use words. Another breath and they wait patiently for you._

_“May…May I?” you whisper pleadingly, desperately._

_It’s a request and a plea for forgiveness, all wrapped in one. She moves forward, and you stiffen, but all she does is place a hand on your arm and look you directly in the eyes._

_“Child,” she says, and there’s no trace of anger or blame in her voice, just a steady warmth, “of course you may. You have every right to.”_

_She has to be lying. There’s no other possibility. Any second now, she’ll change her mind. And yet, a small part of you can’t help but nurture the tiniest sliver of hope._

_“You’d let me?”_

_She moves back, fixing you with an understanding look that reminds you so much of her that for a second, they blur together._

_“Of course, child. You are as much a part of our family as she is a part of yours.”_

_And you can tell, by the look in her eyes and the warmth in his smile, that they never blamed you, not once and a part inside your chest just shifts. Suddenly, you feel yourself fighting back tears, and you swipe hastily at your eyes because the last thing you want to do now is make a scene._

_“Thank you,” you whisper, and it comes out more choked than you like, but you mean it with all your being. “I…thank you. Thank you.”_

_She surprises you with a smile, albeit a small one, but a smile nonetheless and simply nods before moving to the side. “Go,” she gestures to the door, “she’s waiting for you.”_

_You nod, not trusting yourself for words at the moment. You place a hand on the knob and close your eyes, reining your emotions back in control. Once you feel some semblance of yourself again, you take a deep breath and open the door._

_The inside isn’t much different from Severa’s room, and you see Noire sitting at the vanity at the far end, staring absently at her reflection in the mirror with an almost dreamy sort of expression. She looks up when you close the door and immediately breaks into a smile._

_“Selena!” she gets up and hitches her dress, a gorgeous gossamer gown of white with red trimmings, and makes her way to you. She gives you an enthusiastic hug, and you catch a familiar scent of cinnamon and pine. “I was wondering when I’d get to see you! I didn’t think Severa would ever let you escape.”_

_You’re still recovering from the encounter with her parents, so the chuckle you give her is a little weak, though no less sincere. “Well, somebody told her there was some sort of piñata explosion happening here, so she gave me permission to leave. But it looks like you have everything handled pretty well.”_

_“Oh, do you mean the incident earlier with Owain and Cynthia? There was a bit of a kerfuffle with a small fire and the quiches, but that’s under control now.”_

_To you, that sounds a lot bigger than just a little incident, but Noire’s expression remains placid and dreamy, so you raise your eyebrows and remark, “Uh huh. You seem awfully calm about all this.”_

_“To tell you the truth, I was panicking a bit earlier,” she replies blithely, and that certainly explains the oddly serene expression of hers, “but I think I’ve transcended from panic into a higher state of being from all the chaos. Besides,” she laughs and throws her hands up in the air, “I’m getting married!”_

_You can’t help the smile that forms on your face at her infectious excitement. “Yes, yes you are. But not for another couple hours at least. Last I checked, we’re still waiting on those quiches.” At the crestfallen look on her face, you hasten to add, “But in the meantime, while we wait, why don’t we do something nice to that hair of yours?”_

_Noire gasps in delight as if you had just offered her the entirety of the Ylissean treasury and then some to her. “Oh, would you? I’d love that!”_

_“Settle down then,” you say, gesturing to the chair and she quickly complies, and eagerly hands you the brush with all the enthusiasm of a child being gifted a Yuletide present. “But before that,” you gesture to her circlet and the fay feather tucked in there, “You mind if I take that out for a second? I promise,” you chuckle as she visibly hesitates, “we can put it back as soon as I’m done.”_

_After a second, she nods and takes it off, gently depositing it on the vanity. You pick up the brush and smooth out her locks before beginning to brush._

_“I’m surprised you still have that musty, old thing,” you jokingly remark as Noire relaxes and starts to hum underneath her breath. “Don’t you think it’s time to make Severa get you a new one?”_

_Noire giggles. “I should, shouldn’t I?” she agrees, eyes sparkling mischievously. “But I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not yet at least. Severa said I should only give it away when I’ve made enough happy memories with it to last me a lifetime.”_

_That brat, taking the words right out of your mouth and stealing your lines to make herself look cool. What a loser. You shake your head and ask, “Well, then, how about today? Where does your wedding day rate on the scale of happy memories?”_

_Noire sighs dreamily. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any scale big enough for today. There’s just so many feelings inside me that I’m fit to burst.”_

_“Really? That happy?”_

_“Even more,” Noire says in all seriousness. She seems to think a bit before adding, “Honestly, it’s very cliché, but… I’m so happy right now that I could die tomorrow and be content with the memories we’ve made.”_

_To your credit, your hand falters for only a fraction of a second. Your heart though, stutters painfully for that second but thankfully, Noire doesn’t notice. You take a deep breath. Focus. It’s just a slip of the tongue. She doesn’t mean anything by it._

_“That’s- that’s not something a bride should say on her wedding day,” you scold weakly, your voice somehow managing to come out of you with only a hint of a waver._

_But Noire emphatically shakes her head. “But it’s true!” She stares fiercely into the mirror, and you freeze as she looks you directly in the eye. “I could die tomorrow, and my only regret would be that I wouldn’t be able to tell Severa just how beautiful she’s made my life.”_

_The brush clatters to the ground, right out from you numb fingertips and you stumble onto your knee. You can feel you heart thudding in your chest, a painful beat as she utters the few words you thought you’d never hear._

_You can’t breathe. A choked sob rips out of your throat._

_Noire turns around, her quizzical expression turning into one of mild alarm. “Selena? Selena, are you alright? Should I call a doctor?”_

_You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment. A few stray tears leak out from the corner of your eyes, but you make no move to brush them away. You put a hand over your mouth to stop the sobs from coming out._

_A warm hand slides into your own. Noire simply holds on without saying a word, and you take the anchor gratefully. The pain in your chest is ripping, but it’s a real pain, a soothing pain that fills you with relief, and you relish in it._

_Her happiness. That’s all you ever wanted to know. That’s all you ever wanted._

_After a few more moments, you feel your breaths evening out and slowly, you come back to your senses. When you look up, Noire stares back at you, worry written all over her face._

_“S-sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you like that.” You let go of her hand and try to give her your best reassuring smile. “What you said just reminded me of someone, that’s all.”_

_Noire looks down guiltily. “O-oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up any painful memories.”_

_You laugh, and she starts in surprise. “Just the opposite in fact. Those are some of the best memories I’ve ever made.” You laugh again at the confused expression on her face. Gods, you just feel so light right now, like you could walk on air! She was happy. You made her happy. “Seriously, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” You pick up the brush again and gesture back to her hair. “Let’s get back to making you look beautiful.”_

_After a pause, Noire nods with a hesitant smile, and you tackle her hair with the brush with renewed vigor. This time, you’re the one who can’t stop smiling like a fool._

_“Oh and Noire?” She looks back to you inquisitively. “About what you said about not being able to tell Severa just how happy she made you,” you say, and she nods. “You don’t have to worry. Something tells me she already knows. And something tells me she feels the same.”_

_A spark lights up in her eyes. “Truly?”_

_You wink at her, and the smile that follows afterwards is the most genuine one you’ve had on your face in years. “Positive. Take it from someone who knows.”_

_Noire is silent for a little moment longer. Then she looks up at you and smiles. “You know, I think you’re right!” She chuckles a bit. “You know her best, after all. Thank you, Selena.”_

_“Anytime.”_

_Noire giggles again. “Severa was right, you know? She said that you have a knack for saying the right thing at the right time.”_

_“Well, duh! I’ve got a dozen years’ worth of experience on that greenhorn.”_

_Noire’s smile turns knowing as she asks, “Then, do you have any other kernels of wisdom to share for her bride-to-be?”_

_You pretend to think for a second. “Just one. Severa says she won’t cry during the vows. If it goes anything like how mine did, she totally will, and it’ll be a scene. Think you can do something about it?”_

_“I think I can come up with something. I’m going to be her wife, after all!”_

_***_

_Later, during the ceremony, you get to see what Noire really meant. She manages to get through them with barely a hitch in her tranquil expression. Severa, on the other hand, can barely blubber out her own, ‘I do,’ despite her earlier assurances of no tears. Just as she’s on the verge of losing all semblance of composure, Noire steps forward and in an uncharacteristically bold move, she takes Severa by the waist, dips her forward, and kisses her soundly on the lips. There are few good-natured chuckles and somebody in the back wolf whistles._

_When the two finally break apart, Noire’s expression remains largely the same. Severa’s, on the other hand, is flushed so red that steam looks about ready to waft off her face, but there’s no hiding the absolute joy and happiness in her expression._

_Not exactly what you had in mind, you think wryly as you discreetly wipe away a few tears of you own. But close enough._

*** 

“And then they brought out the cake! Nearly as big as the one we had, remember? Ours was definitely tastier, but theirs was alright too. Oh, I should bring some next time! Severa gave me the address for the baker she used. I know you’ll love it. That frosting is to die for, I swear.”

The sky is a fiery orange above you, and your throat is sore from talking so much, but you don’t want to stop. There’s still so much you haven’t told her, so much that you still want to say. So much more. Even now, you feel like there’s not enough time. But you don’t mind as much anymore.

“That’s it for now,” you say after a reluctant lull. “If I keep Severa waiting any longer, her pegasus is going to throw a fit. Seriously, that thing is a handful.” You laugh at a sudden recollection. “Oh, remind me next time I’m here to tell you about the time her pegasus got so angry it ate her shoes, alright? It’s a hilarious story.”

The tree groans agreeably in the breeze, and the branches whisper soothingly in your ear. You get up with a smile and place a hand on the marker. The stone is still warm beneath your hands, familiar and comforting.

“I love you.”

*** 

When you get to the bottom of the hill, Severa is waiting for you, standing next to her pegasus and cooing softly to it. She looks up at the sound of your approach and smiles.

“You finished?”

“All done.” You hitch a leg over her pegasus, and she follows suit, slipping fluidly into the saddle with the ease of a professional. Her pegasus paws at the ground impatiently, eager to be off. You pat it gently on the side. “Sorry for taking so long.”

“No worries. Noire made snacks for the both of us to tide us over until dinner.” She takes up the reins in her hand and looks back at you expectantly. 

“So. Home?” 

You nod and breathe in one last time. There’s a hint of pine and a dash of cinnamon on the breeze. You close your eyes and let it wash over you.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It was a parting in which a goodbye becomes a thank you" - Takeuchi Sachiko


End file.
